


A vision in the flames

by Her Majesty The Bomb (TargaryenPug), raesdragonqueen, TargaryenPug



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anti Jon Snow, BAMF Daenerys Targaryen, BAMF Quentyn Martell, Badass Daenerys Targaryen, Bran is evil, Daenerys Targaryen Lives, Daenerys deserves better, Daenerys is Azor Ahai, Do not read this if you like Sansa, Fix-It, Fuck Sansa Stark, Fuck the Starks, Missandei Lives, Morally Grey Daenerys Targaryen, Queen Daenerys, Slow Build, Targaryen Restoration, Things happen slowly, This is Dany centric, This is not a jonerys fic, Time Travel Fix-It, anti starks, do not read this if you like the Starks, fuck jon snow, fuck the north, no Mad Queen, read the tags, seriously read the goddamn tags, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2020-03-29 18:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 26
Words: 56,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TargaryenPug/pseuds/Her%20Majesty%20The%20Bomb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raesdragonqueen/pseuds/raesdragonqueen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TargaryenPug/pseuds/TargaryenPug
Summary: Daenerys wakes up, with the knowledge of what happens to her and she decides to make sure that what she saw in her vission never comes to pass.Do not read this if you like the starks.





	1. A Coin for Madness

Daenerys woke up suddenly, sweating and screaming. It had been the most real of nightmares, and as she awoke she found a scar on her chest she hadn’t had before.

An Unsullied guard ran to her, the one she recognized as Broken Tooth who had chosen to become part of her personal guard.

"Your Grace, are you alright?" 

_ Is that alright?  _

Dany tried to collect herself; she had died; she remembered dying...she had a scar, now, to prove it.

"What? WHAT HAPPENED?"

Her fear turned to rage. She remembered everything… They had forced her to wake the dragon. 

"Your Grace, you asked for us to make preparations to sail in the morning, and you went to sleep as normal but...Your Grace, should we get some milk of the poppy? Something to help you sleep?".

Dany stared at the scar on her chest.

It would be a reminder of betrayal. She had been so foolish, so naive...Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe she couldn't really trust anyone. She had been going to make Tyrion her hand the next day, she had sent a goldsmith to make the brooch, but now...no, she wouldn't give him reasons to suspect her, but she knew she couldn't trust him. Him, or Jon Snow. 

Viserys’ words echoed in her head: "We have no one but ourselves, sweet sister, you cannot trust anyone else. You are a Targaryen, and they will betray you, given the slightest chance.’

This time, though... this time it would be different. This time, she wouldn't let them.

"Send for the red priestess, instead."

* * *

 

Before sailing, Dany asked Missandei to return to Naath.

"I'm asking you as your friend and as your queen, please, I can't...I won't lose you again. Go to Naath, be with your people, and I swear once the throne is secured I will send a ship for you... if you still wish to be by my side."

Missandei had no idea what her queen was talking about. She had no idea why she suddenly distrusted Lord Tyrion after warming up to him not that long ago; why she had decided that, after all that,  he wouldn't make a good hand- why she took Daario Naharis of all people, nor why she had begun to wear such a heavy medallion on her chest.

She looked less joyful, more bitter, as if she had seen something terrible.

But Missandei did not ask for reasons: she took the ship, and waited for her queen...her friend, to come for her again, once it was done.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys landed on Dragonstone, as she had before. 

But this time, she decided to listen to Lady Olenna and Lady Ellaria instead. 

Tyrion protested the plan, of course, but Daenerys ignored his advice. A first, for ever since he had come into her service, she had listened to everything he had said... Not anymore. 

"Is there a secret entrance to the red keep we could use?" she asked. 

She knew there was one, she didn't quite know where, but she asked to test Tyrion's loyalty and to avoid having to Harrenhall the castle. Tyrion never told her, but to her surprise Varys did. 

This Varys was still almost loyal, but every time he spoke, she felt a tremendous desire to kill him, yet she said nothing... She would not give him any reason to suspect her. 

* * *

 

Knowing the secret entrance made everything easier. 

 

Lannister guards fell to Unsullied spears guarding the hallways, but Dany used the entrance to avoid mass bloodshed and it worked. 

 The Mountain was a problem... But a killable problem nevertheless; a single man piercing him with a spear might not be much, but twenty of them piercing him with spears in all directions made it very easy for Daario to cut off his head with an Arakh.  

"This will be a fantastic trophy" Daario remarked, swinging Ser Gregor's head in his hand. 

Finally, it was Cersei herself.

 

This Cersei had done nothing yet, not to her, but the image of Missandei's head was still seared in Dany's brain. She allowed herself the pleasure of killing Cersei personally; no dragon fire, no unsullied, no dothraki and no order from her lips... She had simply extended her hand for a weapon and she had been given a short unsullied sword, with which she pierced the golden queen's chest and then her head. Daenerys had never taken pleasure of taking a life before, this time however... It felt right. 

Afterwards she gave the sword back.  

* * *

 

Ellaria Sand had died in the siege, with a spear in her hand and a shield in the other. Daenerys legitimized her in death, so she could be buried in Sandstone with the rest of House Uller. 

Still, she went down the way she wanted. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. 

Daenerys then received news of two other Martells; a bastard and an exiled princess. Quentyn Sand and Arianne Martell. 

She sent them letters, legitimizing Quentyn Sand to become Quentyn Martell and making Arianne the New Princess of Dorne if she agreed to return from Pentos. 

They did. 

* * *

 

 "All hail Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the first men…” the bloody titles were endless.

She heard the echoes in the halls, Daario standing right beside her. Her people applauded her; the smallfolk did not react. Perhaps wanting to be loved had been a vanity... Nevertheless, she was there to help, to break the wheel- so she wasted no more time on ceremony, against Tyrion’s advice.

She called the small council, she sent letters everywhere- except the North. The Northerners could rot in their barren wasteland if they so desired.... She had asked the rest to come and bend the knee, finding dissent only within the Iron Islands, currently under the rule of Euron Greyjoy who she refused to marry. She visited his fleet with her three dragons and that was the end of it. 

Yara Greyjoy, however, did bend the knee. 

“Your grace, I am yours to command” she had said as she bowed.

In her she got a loyal subject, a true friend and a potential lover if she so desired one day.

“Rise Yara, my friend…” she said as the ruler of the Iron Islands rose to meet her gaze.

In the Stormlands she named Gendry Waters "Gendry Baratheon of Storm's end" and in doing so, gained a loyal ally... Perhaps even a friend. The Gods knew she needed those. 

Thus, her kingdom was now complete. Daenerys sent letters to Naath, hoping that Missandei would agree to return. She felt desperately alone without her, but she would understand if her beloved friend refused. 

* * *

 

She agreed to marry Prince Quentyn. Some people questioned the union; after all, he had been a bastard not that long ago, and she had only recently legitimized him.

She did not mind that he was a bastard: he could give her Dorne, and since  she had legitimized him herself she was certain that she could somewhat trust him. Besides, he certainly wasn't ugly. He had lush and shiny hair and a beard that she found herself attracted to, she liked that in men. 

That night she reunited with Arianne and her brother Quentyn, to tell them the good news.

“Before gods and men, yes; I will take your brother as a husband and hopefully gain your trust by doing so” she had said to the ruler of Dorne when she was communicating the good news.

“Our trust and our loyalty, Your Grace. In Dorne we hold our promises sacred, and we will be more than happy; with this we would consider Rhaegar’s slight against our family repaired.”

Dany thought about her older brother for a few seconds, she used to idolize him as a child, but after meeting in person the result of his bad decisions and dying by his son’s hand she had reconsidered her thoughts and opinions about her brother.

“It doesn’t even have to be our gods, your grace; be married by a red priest if you so desire…” They seemed to follow the rumors that Dany had converted to the faith of the red god R’hllor, which wasn’t entirely untrue; however it did emphasize to Daenerys the Dornish willingness to compromise, which she never experienced from the Northmen in her other life.

Quentyn, being Dornish, likely wouldn't mind if she had paramours- he would probably take a few of his own; Dany could still be free to pursue Yara and Daario on the side if she so desired it, and her Lord Husband wouldn't really mind...perhaps, even, he would join her...she liked that thought.

“Then it’s settled, I shall marry your brother, Quentyn of House Martell, joining together our houses as they once were, before both a red priest and a Septon, in the place where the sept of Baelor was, honoring our sacred faiths and rebuilding the alliance with House Martell”

The day came before she realised it. She repeated the words that she had been taught, not the ones she had said to Drogo or Hizdahr, nor the ones she was preparing herself to tell to her accursed nephew. No, the ones Viserys had taught her…

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days,” she swore in front of the ruins of the great sept of her ancestors, and one of her first projects.

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days,” her Dornishman repeated back to her.

That night there were no sheets, and no bedding ceremony, they all knew she had been married twice before. And as of that moment she neither knew or trusted her brand new husband.

Still, she didn’t mind bedding Quentyn, he was good, he was better than Jon Snow had been, warmer to the touch and more passionate; better even than Daario and she certainly enjoyed her first night with Quentyn more than she had her first night with Drogo.

“Yes, just like that, just like the breeze, just like the ocean, just like the fire,” he whispered softly in her ear while consummating their union.

He turned out to be great in court matters as well, charming the Westerosi lords Olenna had called sheep. Perhaps she could one day love Quentyn. She felt like she could trust him, but then again, she had felt like she could trust Jon, like she could trust the Stark sisters.

She wanted to trust Quentyn.

* * *

 

She began to mine the dragon glass regardless, she would not risk it; piles and piles of it, she decided to refine it.

She asked her best blacksmiths if it could be mixed with steel, perhaps that way it would keep its properties, but the rest of the Dragonglass would be refined as usual.

Without a Dragon, the Night King...The Great Other really had no way to breach the wall, saving Viserion probably saved the realm, HER realm. 

_ I have to believe that, I have to believe that it can change, that it can be prevented. _

She wanted to be prepared regardless...She could not forget her son falling from the sky, the Night King resisting her flames and she could never forget the wights, the undead who took Jorah from her.

Gods, Jorah, he had no idea he had died, neither did Missandei. In that other world. In that other life.

The undead remained in her head and much to her surprise and displeasure, she wasn't the only one thinking about it, she received a letter...from Jon Snow.

He wanted to meet with her. Dany wanted nothing more than to say no, to refuse him and tell him to shove his sword up his arse...but she was the ruler of a great realm, and Queens belong to their people more than themselves.

She swallowed her wounded pride, her anger and her broken heart, and she agreed to the meeting. She would meet him in King’s Landing with  a small delegation, hear him out and wish him farewell, and that would be it. Perhaps Quentyn would stand beside her as king, and Kinvara...she wasn't sure she would have trusted the First Light of R’hllor before she woke up with the scar on her chest...but she trusted her now, she believed her too.

She was ready to face him now. And when she did, she would have fire in her eyes, not tears.

  
  



	2. The Last Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yes Dany, I love you, Dornishmen never lie about that sort of things"
> 
> No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun’s son and the mummer’s dragon.

She met him in the pits. Quentyn stood beside her, as did Yara, Lady Olenna, Daario, and Lord Gendry.

Lord Baratheon was the only one who seemed not on edge, although he seemed more comfortable with the traitor’s companion, Ser Davos. 

Her own Davos was going to live, her loyal bear; she had received news in the morning that Ser Jorah had found a cure in Asshai, the Shadow City. He swore that he would join her as soon as possible, the only news that could make this meeting bearable.

"Her Grace, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, Queen of Dragonstone, Queen of Mereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, regent of the realm..." ‘The Undying’, she wanted to add, but she had not died in this life. Yet.

"His Grace, King Quentyn of House Targaryen, King Consort of Her Grace Queen Daenerys, first of his name..." 

"Jon Snow...King in the North," Ser Davos announced somewhat warily.

"I admit I am surprised to see you here,  _ my lord _ . I sent no raven north, nor was I planning to..." she spat coldly, her words like daggers. She could see that her reaction shocked the young King.

"Your grace, I came to discuss a matter of the utmost importance, the dead-" 

"-I  _ know _ ." 

The air seemed to drain from the room. Shocked eyes turned on her, from both her own loyalists and the Northerners. 

"You...You know?" asked Jon incredulously.

"I had a vision in the flames,  _ Lord _ Snow. The Lord of Light showed me…" she saw Jon's expression shift into outright mistrust, she knew he had a bad feeling about the followers of R'hllor...she had too, once. But Daenerys was the Unburnt. Daughter of death. Bride of fire. She had been brought back to her past to fix her own mistakes. It had to mean something.

"I had no idea you were a follower of R'hllor, your grace" Jon added warily.

"I wasn't...before. I am now."

"I came here for your help, Your Grace.’ He wasn’t pleading with her, but demanding. In another life, Daenerys had been impressed by him. Then her khalasar and Unsullied had been used as human shields by the Northerners.

 ‘We can form an alliance and we could defeat the dead, together." 

_ An alliance _ . Daenerys chuckled, without humor. "Tell me my lord, this Great Other, does he have a way to breach the wall?" she asked.

"No, your grace," he admitted, ‘but-’

"Can they swim?" 

"No, your grace, I-’

"Have you encountered one of these things south of the wall?" she asked.

"No, but-’

"Then I will not risk my people, my integrity and my life for you,’ she snarled; “I know you desire to remain independent and I will  _ respect _ your wishes Your Grace, but you will be on your own. If, and only if, your cold gods manage to breach the wall, then I will consent to help you and once that is done you are, again. On. Your. Own. I will not endanger my people for your frozen wasteland." 

_ Never again _ .

"Now, my Lord, protocol requires me to offer you five nights to remain here before you return to your home. Your horses may rest, as may you. After that I do not want you in King’s Landing, nor Dragonstone. If you desire another audience you may request one; if not then enjoy your time here… Hrazzo will show you the way to your quarters," she said acidly. Jon looked enraged as she turned and left, without looking back. 

_ If I look back, I am lost. _

* * *

 

"Were you not a little harsh on him?" Daenerys sighed and turned away from Quentyn’s dark eyes, her silver hair sliding off his golden arm. He was looking at her with a tenderness in his eyes which forced her to look away.  _ This, this is all I had wanted... from Jon and from Drogo before him. _

She sat up; she could not speak pragmatically with the sheets and her lover’s arm covering her.

"I know the northerners, Quentyn, they want our help, but they would never give anything in return.’ The words seemed to catch in her throat as she spread her hands to show her helplessness.

"We know the northerners too, believe me Daenerys, Dorne holds no love for them. And yet..."

"Who do you not have a conflict with,’ she shot back, ‘you have no love for the people of the Iron Islands, the Stormlands or the Reach...and as far as I recall, our houses were enemies too, once."

"Must you remind me?’ Quentyn spoke lightly, ‘But still, you know little of them yet, and Snow doesn't seem like the other Northerners." 

_  He doesn't, but he's worse. _ The thought was bitter.

"I am a Targaryen, Quentyn, I am harsh. That's the woman you married. I learned when I was born that the world is harsh. I begged for food and shelter as a child in sewers. Assassins tried to kill me before I turned twelve, I crossed the Red Waste and it took the  _ softness _ from me, Quentyn." 

_ Harsh is all I know. After I gave them everything and in exchange they took even my life. _

"But you are not in the Red Waste any more, harshness doesn't have to become you; you are surrounded in a warm castle, with people who love you...who love you and are loyal to you; Lady Olenna has taken a liking to you, My sister and Obara both believe in you, you have your sellsword who would die gladly for you, and your old bear who made it his life’s mission to defend you, Yara Greyjoy loves you more than she loves even herself, which is saying something I think, and I...you have me… Your Grace." He trailed off as if embarrassed.

She allowed herself to smile.

"We are wife and husband, you do not have to keep calling me 'your grace' Quentyn, especially when we are alone. Besides,’ she smiled widely, ‘you are the King.’

 He  grinned and grabbed the chalice that was resting beside his side of the bed. "All Hail King Quentyn of House Martell, first of his name, Khal of the great grass sea, lord of asses and ruler of all the pompous idiots at court who can do nothing save smear their bastard dornishman king," he mocked and drank deep from the chalice.

She smiled back, taking the chalice from him."All Hail Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Daughter of the mad king, sister to the beggar king, Queen of the savages, the widows and the bastards..." she too drank before returning the calice to his hands teasingly.

"May I ask you something Quentyn?"

"You are my wife and my queen, what couldn't you possibly ask?" Quentyn answered, his warm hand drawing sprawling patterns on her thigh.

"If you discovered tomorrow, that...that you are the rightful heir to the iron throne, even above me, what would you do?" she asked. Quentyn seemed quite perplexed.

"I'd renounce it, publicly, I am a Dornishman my duty is to Dorne and to my queen. I would support you, you certainly are better at ruling than I am..."

"And If I were to tell you that I am your aunt, would you still be with me? Would you still love me? Would you still look at me if we were blood?"

"We probably are, Houses Martell and Targaryen have shared blood for generations, I might be your nephew, but really, why would I care?"

She didn't answer...she had fears, she feared that perhaps Quentyn wouldn't love her, that he would avert his eyes and pull away like Jon Snow.

"Dany...May I call you Dany?" he asked.

"You might, my love," she answered teasingly.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, and despite your harshness you have a loving and gentle heart, I know what you fear, but I won't hurt you...I love you"

"Do you?" she asked hesitatingly.

"Yes," he said, quietly and sweetly. "I love you. Dornishmen never lie about that. Not about love."

"The scar on my chest, do you know how I got that?" She eyed him, darkly curious.

"I have my suspicions, yes..." Fine.

"Perhaps I was a bit too harsh, I don't want to be remembered as Daenerys the Bitter after all...I'll...I'll see what I can arrange with Lord Snow,” she said.

Maybe she could be happy with her Dornish husband, and leave Jon where she had left Drogo: in the past, in her memories, next to Viserys back when he had been sweet.

She stood up, she left the bed and before she covered herself in a gown her violet eyes met his dark brown ones. Intense as the sun itself; she saw a man who perhaps truly did love her, bronze skin, handsome, an arrogant smirk and black hair…

She was beginning to fall in love with him too.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Unnamed Prince of Dorne, who I named Quentyn for the sake of tagging, truly does love her.  
> Isn't a little fast?  
> Well, it was fast when Jon and Dany "fell in love", but he is genuinly the best boyfriend she ever had; better than Drogo, Daario and Jon...specially Jon.
> 
> And if you feel like this fic is pure salt, it is...I'm salty. I know there a a billion fics right now about "What if Dany sees the future?", "What if she's brought back to life?"...I don't care...I'm writing this because I need my girl to have a happy ending.
> 
> Because I love her, I love Yara and The Dornish and hate everyone else.


	3. The Dragon and the wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Queen took off her sandal, the king took of his crown.

She had agreed to a second, private meeting to please Quentyn, though she felt uneasy.

She eyed Jon hostilely and he stared back at her; neither left their seats. The proud King in The North, who once said "I do not need Your permission, I am a King" another life ago looked like a scolded puppy.

This Dragon Queen, who had begged him to love her, who had given everything to rescue him, looked as fierce as one of her dragons. One of her three, living dragons.

_Where is your bravado Jon? I dare you to challenge me now._

She broke the silence first like a mailed fist through a pane of glass.

 

" I will allow you to mine dragon glass from Dragonstone. Take as much as your soldiers need; I will receive anyone unable to fight; elders, women and children, smallfolk, lording and wildlings alike. I will send one of my khalasars to guide them south and to protect the caravan on the journey, and back north again once it's all over, if they so choose. I have several empty castles I am willing to give to lords or wildling leaders that swear their loyalty to me. And then... If, and only if, the Others breach the wall will I send any aid to you.”  Jon’s perpetual frown deepened, but Daenerys held her ground. “I'll go myself if the Wall is breached, and breathe fire and death upon the wights, but until it is, you remain on your own.” Her hands clenched the arms of her throne. “Expect no men or food from me, Lord Snow, unless you change your mind and kneel.”

She got love in the south and naught but fear in the north.

"Your Grace, we must cooperate, the North... "

"You want an independent North? "

"Yes, Your Grace, but... "

"Then be independent."

Jon’s eyes flashed. “I was told, Your Grace, that you were a rescuer. That above anything you protected your people. We need your help, desperately. "

_I protect my people. You are not my people._

 Daenerys felt her dragon’s temper surge within her.

"Would you do the same for me? Lord Snow... If they were coming for the people in the south, if I needed something from you, _desperately_? I don't think so. You northerners talk a lot about honor despite having none... Do you know where I learned honor? The Dothraki break no promises, ever, but who speaks of Dothraki honour? I gave you my conditions and you have a choice to make," she continued.

 

Jon looked enraged. "I have never wanted to be King, but I have a claim on that throne stronger than yours, _aunt_. "

_I knew it._

"Go ahead, say it... Announce it, declare yourself King Aegon, go to war with me, see how well it goes. The Dornish _despise_ you and love me, not only for my marriage with Quentyn but for my support of Dorne and Dornish law. The Dothraki follow me not for my name but for my strength.”

At her right hand, Qhono straightened with pride for his khaleesi.

"The Unsullied are loyal only to me, and not for my name or my blood. The Reach is mine through Lady Olenna, I gave her the vengeance she so desired... Yara Greyjoy? She's in love with me... You might convince Lord Gendry, but then again, I made him a lord and I saved his life twice. Regarding Lord Tully and Lord Arryn... They might support you, but there are a thousand houses that would support me instead… House Blackwood, for example, for the Riverlands and House Royce of the Moongate for the Vale. I heard that Nestor Royce has ambitions for the lordship of the Vale... and I reward those who swear loyalty to me.” She spoke with an almost-bored, artificially calm voice. “Is that what you want, my lord?" 

"No" he said, defeated.

Daenerys allowed herself to smile slowly and leisurely. "Good. To prove that I am not wholly without a heart I'll send a few men... Two thousand... A thousand and five hundred on foot and five hundred on horseback." It wasn't much, not to a queen with the greatest army in the known world, but it was enough to prove to Jon that she showed some good will. The Northerners didn't have many men; the Knights of the Vale had swollen their numbers a little as did the wildlings but while two thousand men wasn't a small contribution, it wasn't what Jon expected.

He looked frustrated. "...Thank you, Your Grace."

 

 

* * *

 

 

"His Grace, King Quentyn of House Targaryen... " 

"You don't have to announce me every time I enter a room, Her Grace is the true ruler, I'm just the lucky fool who spends his days drinking, singing and fighting until it’s my turn to warm her bed, " he joked to the ruffled announcer, who bowed and left the room silently.

Jon Snow looked similarly unamused. "Your Grace." 

"My Lord.”

"Thank you for meeting me" added the King in the North.

"Well, you were really insisting... And you were getting on my beautiful wife's nerves... The Gods know that as Queen she has enough on her hands already, so I thought I'd do something nice for her and deal with you.”

Quentyn stretched out luxuriously in his chair while Jon sat stiffly. “One bastard king to another I despite politics as much as you do, and I truly do not understand how my wife does this all day without strangling someone... But I am happy regardless: happy and in a good mood, I think she might have something in her belly.” He winked roguishly. “I hope it's a girl... " 

King Quentyn seemed happy about that...not just to have an heir, but to have a daughter with a woman he genuinely loved, perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world, and Jon couldn't help himself, he desired her... Had desired her since he laid eyes on her, and he couldn’t help but feel spiking stabs of jealousy for this handsome Dornish prince. Confusion, too; she looked at him as if she knew him his entire life, she seemed bitter at him, she seemed to hate him and Jon couldn't understand why.

"I came to negotiate with you, Your Grace.” Jon leaned forward, wringing his hands. “I talked to Her Grace earlier, she offered two thousand men to defend the North, and the offer is generous..."

Quentyn cocked his head, eyes glinting. "Very generous, my lord."

"...but I _know_ she has more men, and I-"

"-You know, she wasn't willing to spare a single man, I convinced her otherwise.” Quentyn held Jon’s gaze, unblinking. “I think the offer she made was generous...She doesn't usually act as she did with you; she is usually full with love and loyalty to those who give it back. Yes, to those who give it back,  and I am no fool, Lord Snow...the scar on her chest, her distrust of the northerners..."

Jon felt a familiar, cold ache in his own chest. "She has a scar on her chest?" Jon asked.

"It's a miracle that she lives...then again, everything has been trying to kill her and everything has failed so far, she is extraordinarily strong; the point is, my Lord, that she has no love for the North and if I am honest neither do I...not for houses Lannister, Baratheon or Stark...I believe you my lord, I truly do, I believe in honor among bastards... I may feel kinship with you My Lord but I do not trust you. And this is my warning. Do not dare to even think about hurting  her, or you _will_ wake the dragon." He was not talking about the Queen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She made certain Jon thanked her for her generous offer, in public, before leaving with two thousand men and the additional Khalasar that followed him to escort south the ones unable to fight.

And then he began his march back North.

Lord Gendry was the only one who seemed upset with the arrangement, but those fears were allayed when she talked to him in private. "They will manage, my lord,” she reassured him: "We have to look out for _our_ people, _our_ smallfolk. The Starks are right; winter is indeed upon us and I want to make sure no one hungers while it is." 

She began making decrees, in the Red Keep, on Dragonstone, Storm's End, Old Town... That there should be a large shelter, in every city, for the beggars and those who had nowhere to go when the snows began to fall.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Talking with her husband was always good for her.

They were in a small dining room in the Red Keep which Dany had guessed was meant to host small diplomatic parties; it had a table at the center, made from ebony wood, and surrounded by matching carved ebony chairs, of which ten sat empty and two had her and Quentyn, sitting in front of each other.

"They are real Quentyn, I've seen them... I've seen many things, I fought them... I dream I fought them." She sighed and picked at her food in her silver platter, looking at Quentyn’s face as the candlelight softly illuminated his face. It was Dany’s favorite room in the red keep, one which resembled what she remembered from Meereen the most, and the most welcoming as well: the woven scarlet tapestries of her House and the tall candles more than made up for the lack of windows and the usual darkness in the room; and it was, perhaps, the best place to get intimate in the entire castle save her own chambers, if she so desired it.

"I know... " he said, stuffing his mouth with meat. Daenerys had taken new habits to relieve the stress of ruling; she was learning swordsmanship and hunting. She'd sometimes take Daario Naharis, her paramour, and sometimes she'd take Lord Gendry, with whom she was becoming quick friends, even if he was a little nervous. Quentyn was enjoying a stag she had killed the night before Jon left, roasted with plum, spices and honey in the Essosi style.

Daenerys stayed silent. He looked up again, and took her hand. "I know."

"I am not heartless Quentyn but... If I fight them, If I help the northerners I lose everything and everyone I love and I- I can’t. " The memories returned to her in a swift flash to taunt her.

"I know, Dany."

He put down his eating knife.

"I'm sorry Quentyn, here I am, one of the few times we can be truly alone and I bother you with this, " she said in a small, worried voice, “But the witch... Mirri Maz Duur... Our baby... "

"Will survive, you will see my love.” Quentyn grinned infectiously at her. “We will have a beautiful girl with the blood of the dragon and the sun in her veins, a warrior queen just like her mother... " he said with a soft smile in his face.

She liked the thought of that, moreso, the thought of finally having some blood family that wouldn’t turn on her; the thought of having a doting and loving family as she always desired, everything Viserys and Jon could never be.

She laughed despite herself. "What if it's a boy?" she teased.

"Then you will get to name him,” he reassured her. “If she is a girl, however... I'd like to call her Rhaella. "

"After my mother?" The Queen asked, surprised: she would not have minded a name like Elia, Nymeria or Arianne like her aunt, she was not expecting the name of her mother from the lips of her Dornish husband, who had lost also so many people.

He nodded.

"Well, if it's a boy... I'd name him Oberyn," Daenerys declared.

Oberyn... Quentyn was Doran's bastard but Oberyn was the one who raised him like his own, a legendary warrior and a man beloved by all the dornish she had met so far.

"Here, to Prince Oberyn Targaryen... " he toasted.

She toasted back.

  



	4. The Dragon and the Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Bear there was, a bear, a bear!  
> All black and brown, and covered with hair.  
> The bear! The bear!
> 
> Oh come they said, oh come to the fair!  
> The fair? Said he, but I'm a bear!  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...just so we are clear, just because the Hound is here, doesn't mean I'll treat the Starks niceley, this is still pretty much a salt and wishfulfillment fic based on other two fanfictions made of salt and wishfulfilment...I just am investing a little in the plot.

She seethed with discomfort. She had not been naked in front of strangers she did not intend to bed since the burning of the Khals. 

She had never been attended when she was little; every time she got sick she'd have to ignore it... And when she became Queen, she never consulted a Maester or went to a healer. 

Never before had she been so in love so quickly: her marriage with Quentyn was strategic at first, but a few nights with him had made her fall madly, deeply. She realized that, when she had been with Jon, she had still been thinking a lot about Drogo. Not any more.

_ If I look back, I am lost. _

"Hold still, Your Grace," Maester Marwyn murmured. 

"Will they live?" she asked shakily while the Maester still had his large head pressed to her belly. 

"They are strong, strong little dragons... " he lifted his head. 

"Dragons?" she gasped,  _ More than one?  _

"You can get dressed now, Your Grace,” he smiled.  _ Dragons _ … “You are having triplets.”

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east... " she murmured to herself without realizing that the Maester heard her.

"I'm aware of the prophecy.” He looked at her intently. “But your children  _ will _ live, Your Grace." He assured her, much to her surprise.

 "A medical assertion?"

"No, Your Grace, I too saw it in the fire, and the glass candles confirmed it... The three of them will be magnificent warriors, and the world will tremble beneath their feet as it does beneath yours." It was rather strange to hear a maester talk about prophecy, it was not usually seen with certainty in the faith of the seven, so she wondered if like her the man was a follower of R'hollor.

She stared at him. "Maester, tell me, did the citadel send you? " she had doubts, suspicions.

"It did, Your Grace,” he nodded, “but I also requested it... All I want is to serve you, if you give me the pleasure.”

Perhaps her fate had already changed. 

She left the next day to meet the caravan of northerners.

* * *

 

They carried the banner of the Three Headed Dragon proudly; all aware of how they would look, but the Second Sons did not mind... They were the Dragon’s men, now. 

Although Daario didn't want to march to Winterfell- his orders were to march to the Wall, to man it- the stop in Winterfell was necessary. The horses needed to rest, and the men too. Strangely enough, Jon Snow had insisted for them to stop in Winterfell before reaching Castle Black; Daario was uncertain if he meant to win him and his men over or if The King in The North was trying to make amends with the Queen somehow, the last option seemed less likely, but he did not descarted it entirely...Maybe he was just trying to prove that there were no hostilities between him and the queen Daario was sworn to. 

Outside the castle gates stood a tall lady in trailing black furs, with a snarling dire wolf sewn on her chest followed by a welcoming party to receive them, a few men in ceremonial armors and fur cloaks that either held a white banner with a direwolf or a spear. When his horse stoped in front of her, she looked coldly disappointed by his arrival. Pretty, but nothing compared to the last blood of old Valyria.

"Welcome, my lord, I am Sansa Stark, I was told to receive you here in Winterfell. will Her Grace join us?" She too was expecting more men. "She will not, my lady,” Daario smirked; “She sends me and my men to protect the realms of men... My name is Daario Naharis and these are the Second Sons" he said, with pride in his voice and yet Sansa Stark sounded disappointed.

"Forgive me, Lord Daario, but where are the rest of your men? I was told her grace has three large dragons, and at least fifty thousand men to fight for the North."

"Daario, I am no Lord or knight yet; Less men means less mouths to feed, Lady Sansa, wouldn't you agree? And we have not come here to fight for the North, truth be told I care little for the North. Their Graces Queen Daenerys and King Quentyn…”

_ They too care little for the North _ … he though with a mixture of malice and anger “They said there were men needed to man the wall and that's what my men and I will do" She could not hide her frustration. 

The feast was worse than the reception, but it was where the Lord Captain of the Second Sons could get even; the Second Sons ate and drank their fill, every soldier was chugging down tankard after tankard of ale or feasting on roasted meats and Daario ate quite a lot, just to irk the Lady of the North, who seemed to hate every bite they gave their lamb legs and every swig they took from their goblet. They spent a single day there, making it very clear that they were going to the wall, and even then, they would not follow orders from the men of the Night’s Watch... No, they were going to man the empty castles in their own way, deal with the threat in the north... A _ nd return, I will return to my beautiful Queen _ , Daario thought for himself. In a year's time another two thousand men would come to substitute for him and his men, and he'd be able to return to King’s Landing...where he could rejoin Daenerys with tales and feats to show.

* * *

 

Queen Daenerys kept her word; she received the men and women unable to fight. Among the faces in the caravan she saw some faces, familiar to her from her other life, that she hadn’t quite expected to find.

She saw Tormund Giantsbane; odd, she remembered him being loyal to Jon Snow, she saw Lyanna Mormont, weird too as she remembered that Lyanna Mormont had no love for her, a lot of devotion for the North and no intention of "staying by the fire when men are dying". She saw Sandor Clegane too; Dany thought he'd be in the riverlands, at this time in her other life, he was just traveling north, and she saw Jorah Mormont… who she had thought would be in Oldtown.

When she saw him, she forgot all formalities, she dismounted her horse, ran up to her bear and hugged him as tight as she possibly could. She could feel the confused looks of the people in the caravan, but she did not care.

 She was not going to bury him again.

"Am I forgiven Khaleesi?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Ser, I forgive you, can you forgive me? For exiling you?" 

_ For letting you die? for not loving you like you love me? Oh my sweet bear, can you forgive me? _

"There is nothing to forgive, Your Grace. I know I overreached my boundaries and you are my queen. I'll be happy to serve you again!" he said warmly. 

She let him go, and examined him curiously. He was wearing a satin cloak, a green satin shirt and black wool pants, with a black belt and a silver buckle, he looked almost like a rich merchant from Pentos or Tyrosh or even the Reach.

"What are you doing in the caravan from the north? I thought you'd be in old town."

"I never went to Old Town; I went to Assai, then Volantis and once I was cured by the red priests I went to Pentos, there I took a ship to White Harbor. I went to Bear Island to get my affairs in order, and when I heard that you had taken the throne, I joined with the caravan. I wanted to see you again and offer you my services." She looked down and saw what he clutched in his left hand; it was Ser Barristan's white cloak, the one she gave him when he joined her Queensguard.

"Jorah, I have three Bloodriders..."

"And no knights, no true knights guarding you..."  _ No, _ she thought.  _ Not again. _

"Your Grace, I desire one thing and one thing only; to serve you, to protect you, please. Let me join your Queensguard,” he begged.

"Can we have this conversation in private, Ser?" she asked him, noticing a good portion of the caravan was staring at them. Jorah gave a polite courtesy bow, looking hurt. She wanted him by her side, but not defending her, she didn't want him to die again.

_  He doesn't know he ever died, he doesn't have to either, you just have to protect him...like he has protected you. _ She would take him back, there were several positions in her small council that needed to be filled, including the one of Hand, and she did need a man she could rely on to be her hand. For once.

But she would not put him in her Queensguard.

She then turned to the people in the caravan.

"My name is Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, of the blood of Old Valyria, First of my Name...but I realize that means nothing to you, you already have a King; I will not ask you to bend the knee, that is up to you. You are here now as my guests, the settlement ahead was built for you to remain until the threat in the north is finished, then you will be able to return to your homes, but those who wish to bend the knee, can be given more bountiful pastures, keeps which are empty and ready for you to use.” She shrugged. “If not I ask only of you to remain in the settled lands, and to not raise any armies against me or harm my subjects, whatever you might have heard about me... I'm worse.” She smiled. “As for the rest, I am a gracious host, you will not hunger, you will not lack wine or roof while you are my guests, there will always be a fire to warm you and a soft bed, for all of you, Highborn or lowborn, free folk or member of the kingdoms."

Tormund rose and spoke "We do not kneel, not to the king in the 'North' and not to you...but we will not forget your help either, I thank you, Queen of Dragons, on behalf of the Free Folk. And we promise to give back the help you have given us," he declared. Dany had known he wouldn't kneel, not to her, but his words were kind, and they did reflected a certain gratitude and respect she had not gotten from the northerners the last time. She appreciated Tormund's words.

Then spoke Lyanna Mormont "My cousin might have forgotten, but I haven't. We know no King but the King in the North." Daenerys stared coldly, she expected as much from the Lady of Bear Island.

Then spoke Sandor Clegane "You, you are all a bunch of fucking cravens, cowards the whole lot of you, and you, Your Grace… I've served two shite kings before you and your pretty face decided to land in this godsforsaken land... damn it all." 

Sandor Clegane knelt.

"I, Sandor of House Clegane, the hound, a dog of war, do kneel to you, Your Grace. I never thought much of Kings and Knights, Queens or Princes...but I'll be damned, I know why you are here and I offer you my sword if you need it." That did surprise Dany.

"I accept your sword, and yourself. Sandor Clegane, you may rise."

She would return to King’s Landing in the morning, and to her sweet Dornish prince; but that night she would spend among the Northerners to ensure their safety.

* * *

 

"I don't understand, Your Grace."

"I need you too much,” Dany sighed, “and the Queensguard position is too risky." They had ridden far enough from the camp not to be heard; only Aggo had followed her.

"I only want to serve you, Khaleesi, there is nothing else that I desire...and you need warriors to guard you. Your Grace, there's nothing I'd rather do than to serve you."

"I know, but not as Queensguard..." she looked at Barristan's cloak, still in Jorah's hands..."Everyone who tries to protect me dies, my sweet bear; Drogo, Rakharo...Ser Barristan..."  _ My Dragons, Missandei...You... _ "I need you, by my side. Alive, Ser."

"What do you suggest then? Your Grace?" Dany walked to her horse, a beautiful black stallion that Quentyn gave her in her wedding. Approaching the saddle, she took something from a small bag.

"I had made it for someone else,” she admitted, “but I realized that I couldn't trust him, I never gave it to him, but you are as fit as any man I’ve ever known to wear this." She walked back to Jorah, he lifted the torch to see what she had in her hand. It was a brooch, a small silver brooch… a hand.

"Your grace...I..."

"Ser Jorah Mormont, my oldest and truest friend, the bravest, the most loyal, will you take this? Will you be my hand?"

"Yes, Your Grace, I live to serve you..." He knelt, without her asking him to, she put the brooch on his shirt; he looked handsome. Glowing with pride. Daenerys couldn’t hold back a smile; her old loyal friend finally by her side the way it should have been from the beginning.

"Then rise, Ser Jorah Mormont...Hand of the Queen".


	5. The Dragon and the Toad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is set in stone, not the future and not prophecy.
> 
> "When the sun raises in the west and sets in the east..."
> 
> "Three fires must you light..."
> 
> "From smoke and salt was she born to make the world anew. She is Azor Ahai returned ... and her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end ... death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn ..."
> 
> It seems, like the future is already changing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very salty fic... It's not as carefully crafted as other fics of mine.

She was about to leave for the camp, when she turned to see the Hound standing right in front of her. Daenerys feared for a moment that he might have been spying on her while she was talking to Jorah.

"We need to talk Your Grace,” he growled. Sleep could wait, she decided: she had wanted to know why Sandor Clegane, of all people, decided to kneel.

"Indeed," she agreed, quirking an eyebrow, for this was a strange set of circumstances that she could not have foreseen, she wondered how much of the lives of others and events had changed since her awakening in Mereen.

She looked around for a log, and sat down. The Sandor Clegane that Dany remembered was incredibly protective of the Stark girls and wouldn't have sworn his service to her like this one had.

"You’ve looked at the flames recently have you not, Your Grace?" The Hound asked with a grave voice.

"I have,” Dany concurred slowly, “I saw a version of events that...that ended in several deaths. Including my own, and yours, Ser..."

"Your Grace, I have been respectful to you," Sandor said interrupting her briefly. "Please don't call me Ser."

"...Sandor. I saw the Great Others breach the wall, but our future has changed. The Others don't have a way to breach the wall anymore, and the Night King...We know how to kill him now, if he were to breach the Wall."

"Lord of Light guide us. I saw visions in the flames, of these bloody events that hopefully will never happen if you never bring a dragon north. And events that might.” He sighed and looked at her. “Don’t you wonder what went so bloody wrong the first time?" 

It was strange talking with someone who remembered the first events as she did. It was also strange that Sandor Clegane, a man afraid of fire, a man who despised the followers of the Red God, became a follower of R’hllor himself, it was stranger still in the current set of events...It became obvious to Dany that he had been looking for her for a while now and Dany had to wonder why him, why Sandor Clegane of all people ended with a vision of the events that Dany witnessed and lived that no one else seemed to remember; it was strange at best and truly frightening at worst.

"I have been busy trying to prevent it from happening,” Dany pointed out. 

From becoming a monster, from losing her children and her friends. Already by not helping the North in the way they had wanted, she had prevented several deaths, including that of her precious son, Viserion; though it was obvious they would not see it that way.

"Brandon Stark, that little creature...the Night King was killed, your grace, but the 'Great Other' wasn't.” Sandor nodded thoughtfully. “He is an agent of the Great Other; just as the Nights King was or is at the moment, Bran needed the city destroyed- after you died, he got crowned king. He gave Council positions to his friends regardless of merit, because those were temporary, only there not to arouse any suspicion for the impending apocalypse. After all, the previous one had been defeated, no one suspected there would be a second one, everyone was too busy trying to rule an unreliable kingdom, war came again from the Iron Islands and Dorne; led by your new husband and his sister...later, joined by Edmure Tully who surprised everyone rebelling against the crown as well, all while the people in the kingdoms were starving” he chuckled humourlessly, “And then...winter came again...Underfed soldiers couldn’t stop them and neither could the smallfolk after barely recovering from a famine and a plague, the dead rose again, stronger than ever; lead in secret by the warg king and you weren't here to stop them anymore.”

Daenerys watched him, horrified, as he continued. “They took over, and eventually you came back to life, in Volantis, but not as yourself, not- not entirely human.” He scowled and shook his head. “The world collapsed.”

Sandor could obviously see the distress in the young queen’s face “I did not mean to frighten you, or to put more pressure on your shoulders...but do you not wonder how is it that I know this?”

They sat in silence for a moment; night birds continued their chirping, the fire still illuminated their faces and Dany tried to process in her head everything she had heard so far, “You weren't sent back to save a city, or to do it all over again. You were sent back to save us all. The red priests sent me back as well, to warn you. To protect you. We need you alive. Your Grace, Brandon Stark is the true enemy."

His words filled her with dread, for several reasons. Bran Stark...she had no love left for the Starks, to be sure, but she could not imagine him as the Great Other. And she couldn't be the savior; she was a monster, she remembered being a monster, she remembered the screams of the people in King's Landing and her burning anger.  _ Mother of dragons, mother of monsters.  _ And now, Sandor Clegane was telling her that she was needed to stop the apocalypse.

Last time, Arya Stark had killed the Night King with a dagger. But it had been too easy, hadn’t it? My bear died, but the Long Night lasted only moments more than any other night.

"What do you mean, Sandor?" She tried to remain stern, stoic, like the conqueror queen who had taken over Essos and then Westeros, but there was a crack in her voice and she could feel a knot in her throat as she spoke.

"You are Azor Ahai, and without you, we are all dead,” the Hound spoke roughly. “We need you to defeat Brandon Stark.”

 

* * *

 

"And she said no?" Sansa demanded, upset. She wanted more men, to fight for the north, perhaps to get the riverlands and the vale too.

"She said no, in fact she threatened to go to war with me,” Jon answered honestly.

"Well, why not? The Northerners are loyal to you, as are the wildlings, the Knights of the Vale would follow me to the end of the world, you certainly have the birthright. You could be King Jon..."  _ and I could be Queen _ .

"You are not listening Sansa, she's right; The Ironborn, The Dornishmen, The Reachmen, they have no love for us. Her additional forces care little for legitimacy, they follow her for being her. And the dragons, especially the black one, they are not friendly. They obey only HER," he fired back.

"So, then, what are we going to do?" she asked.

Truth be told, Sansa wanted Jon to press the claim. She wanted to get a little closer to the throne. Perhaps if Jon became the king of the seven kingdoms, he would grant her independence and she could be Queen in the North. Independent but not locked out...However this Dragon Queen wouldn't allow Sansa's ambitions to come to fruition. If she got the damned metal chair, then Jon would remain King in The North. She had even offered to marry him but he had vehemently refused. "Sansa I'm flattered but NO" he had said. It still stung.

"Mayhaps Her Grace is right...she did send men to man the wall; fresh men, experienced soldiers..."  _ Yes, experienced soldiers with no loyalty to us, Jon. Only to her. _

"You are the king, Jon, the rightful king! Her king too. You shouldn't be asking of her, you should be demanding!" Sansa snarled.

"I TRIED, SANSA...BUT IF WE WENT TO WAR WITH HER RIGHT NOW, SHE WOULD CRUSH US LIKE A ROCK CRUSHES AN INSECT" Jon said, yelling.

"The fact is, they love her. Gods, you never saw her, Sansa, the legends are all true. She is the most beautiful woman in the world. I would be lying if I said I didn't dream about licking her thighs...Like that smug Dornish viper probably does. The Ironborn call her a warrior, the Reach men call her the fairest woman in the world with a gentle heart, the Dornish sing of her as a tactician and woman of ruling; and none of them are wrong. She is all of that," he sighed, “…and she hates me for some reason. I don't quite know why.” 

"She never even sent a raven asking us to bend the knee, did she?" added Sansa pensively.  _ She’s ruining everything, and I won’t let her. _

"Jon, without her food wagons, we will starve..." she said

"I know, but we must remain in good graces with her, swallow our pride for once. We need her,” he sighed, “but she doesn’t need us”.

Sansa couldn’t remember ever being more frustrated.

* * *

 

"Your Grace, perhaps you should go elsewhere..." suggested the Master of Ships, Yara Greyjoy...with a serious look on her face, always so grim that one.

"Nonsense! I promised the Queen that I'd support her until her return, we don't have a Hand yet after all. And we have some ruling to do," he smirked.

"Your Grace, do you even know what we are going to talk about?" asked Grey Worm, the Master of War.

"Well, let's see...you two are here, my beautiful sister is missing, Lady Olenna you are here looking as gorgeous as ever in your duties as Master of Law..."

"I'd say that your flattery doesn't work on me, your grace, but I'd be lying..." said the Queen of Thorns dryly, to which Quentyn then playfully winked an eye at her.

"Your Grace," Gendry stated, "we are discussing the organization of this kingdom in the days to follow."

"Our wise Master of Commons- please remind me, what was the last thing you were discussing with my beautiful wife?" asked Quentyn.

"Filling the rest of the small council, some positions are missing as you may see, including that of the Hand. Lord Tyrion lasted very briefly as Master of Coin and there are still a lot of missing spaces in the Queensguard. And we still have no Master of Whispers, since Lord Varys proved untrustworthy. In fact, Your Grace, we were considering your sister for the position of Master of Whispers..."

"I'm afraid Arianne is busy ruling Dorne: my cousins left quite a mess there, as did Lady Ellaria, so my sister's presence is needed in Sunspear, some people in Dorne may think us weak otherwise and House Martell needs to reconsolidate its position after the unfortunate passing of my dearly beloved father and my brother" Quentyn answered, the alliance with House Targaryen had been a blessing from the seven and Quentyn was also happy in his marriage, but he knew that him and Arianne were in a complicated position in Dorne.They were correct though, Arianne would have made a great Master of Whispers, she certainly had the talent and the smarts to carry such a task.

"What about the Dothraki? There must be some men in my wife's Khalasar that could occupy a position."

"The Dothraki are warriors not statesmen, all of them know how to ride a horse, how to shoot a bow, how to kill a soldier but none of them can count money or write" Grey Worm pointed out.

"Well then, we have no option but to wait until her return now do we?" asked Quentyn.

"We were also discussing what would we do in the eventuality of war with the North. We have the superior forces, of course, but even so, we want a plan.” Grey Worm spoke flatly, sounding like a general through and through.

"They won't dare, my dear friend, they need us, they need us more than we need them. They will come crawling from the snow...if not then it will be way too easy to destroy them, we have the largest army in the known world, the largest fleet and three dragons..." Quentyn reassured, which seemed to calm Grey Worm a little bit.

Such an intense man.

"Is there anything left on the agenda then?" asked Quentyn, with boredom in his voice. "No, Your Grace." said Yara Greyjoy.

"Good, then we wait until my wife returns, and she can come to these meetings. She does the politics and I look pretty," Quentyn said only half jokingly.

None of the members of the council seemed too happy about the resolution of that meeting but neither did they look too unhappy with it; there was not much that could be done without a complete council and without the presence of the Queen or an appointed Hand, the Consort King was not too great a substitute but he would have to do until his wife’s return to the city.

He adjourned the meeting shortly after; he wanted to see Grand Maester Marwyn, he had heard early in the morning that there were some news regarding his wife and her health, possibly also the future.

"Your Grace!"

"Grand Maester!" he reciprocated the courtesy. “My wife left after her visit with you, quite urgently. I just want to know what you told her.”

“Your children will be fine, Your Grace; as I told her grace, she is not infertile, she’s not cursed…”

“Children?” Quentyn felt almost speechless.

“Oh yes, I forgot, Your Grace…” The Maester’s wide face split into a grin. “You are having triplets, congratulations! Strong, healthy triplets. You will be a father, Your Grace.”

In that moment Quentyn’s eyes filled with tears of joy.  _ I will be a father…the gods have blessed me with a fierce wife and with children.  _ He would be a great father, warmer than his own loving but distant and at times cold father; Prince Doran had been, he would tell them stories and help them grow, he would teach them how to dance, he would tell them of the wonders of the world, of his trips to the Free Cities, of romance and love and heartbreak, of their legendary grand uncle and of the proud history of Dorne. They would have music, and love for the arts.

The gods had smiled upon him and his Dany; with her he could finally have the family that neither had truly gotten, the gods were at last smiling upon House Martell; and he would love them forever.

He couldn’t be happier. everything was going well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course I made Dany Azor Ahai in this one...The books point to it too.  
> And of course I made Bran an agent of the great other...that's the only way in which the finale makes sense.
> 
> I can do what I want, if Dumb & Dumber can throw everything down the cliff to prompt up their faves, then so can I.
> 
> Oh...And yes, the Hound is Dany's newest member of the Queensguard… Because I can.
> 
> But you may be wondering, "knowing the legend of Azor Ahai... If Dany is Azor Ahai... What does that mean for Quentyn and the triplets? " Well nothing... Not for them.


	6. A Song of Unusal Women of the East and the Last Honorable Man of the North.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are going to build a new world, better from the shit one they lived in...but for that...the wheel needs to break.
> 
> Things change, new friendships are made...new...unusual friendships.
> 
> Daenerys Targaryen will shape the world, but how will be the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of filling, before we get to the good stuff, the wish fulfillment shit... so just hang out for a while...ok? ok!

She found that Tormund Giantsbane was surprisingly easy to talk with, friendly even.

They toasted together and he shared his mead with her. Daenerys enjoyed the taste more than his sour goat’s milk, though she only drank a little, terrified of losing or deforming her little dragons.

Meanwhile Sandor and Jorah both kept their distance, both with a hand discreetly in the pommel of their sword, ready to draw them despite Daenerys various signals to stand down. Tormund was different to the other Northerners.

When she got tired, she bid Tormund Gigantsbane good night and made him a gift.

"The furs, Tormund, are magnificent in the night, but I am afraid you will roast before we reach midday. Satin is better suited for the climate of the South during the day, I can promise you the sun can be quite abrasive..." she said courteously, but he broke from traditions he had never held anyway and hugged her instead. "Thank you, Dragon Queen...I too have a gift for you." From a bag made of mismatched furs he pulled something, a small figure; it was a man carved out of bone. It was small, rough but detailed and it showed love and good intentions.

"I carved it myself,” Tormund declared, ‘It's made out of whalebone, it is tradition among our people to give this to our hosts. It's a symbol of appreciation to those who welcome us into their home and a show of goodwill, It’s made from the bottom of my heart,” he grinned at her, “do you like it?"

"It's wonderful..." she said, feeling a single tear from her left eye struggling to roll down her cheek, but she never cried, and she wouldn't begin now.

He hugged her, and she hugged him back. "Thank you Tormund...Thank you!".

"No, thank you."

And that...was all she wanted to hear.

* * *

 

Sandor kept riding beside her, almost in complete silence.

She knew almost nothing about the man, she only remembered when she rescued him north of the wall, and in the feast of Winterfell- but by now she had become accustomed to being the only one with these memories...And he had only joined her because he had these memories too.

She decided to break the silence.

"Arya Stark…?" 

"Left me to die, twice now, after I risked my life to protect her. She can choke on the snow for all I care" he said grinding his teeth almost hard enough to make one break. 

"Sansa Stark..?" Dany asked. Someone seemed to hate Lady Sansa more than she did, because the Hound clenched his fists and his horse's reins tight enough that the animal itself began to get jumpy and nervous. Daenerys unmounted to calm down Sandor's horse; he unmounted too and stood beside her.

"How did you do that, Your Grace?"

"My first people are the Dothraki,’ Daenerys smiled wistfully. “ I learned their ways, and for them, horses are the single most important thing anyone can have. We eat, breed and live on horses. So, I know my way on horseback and around horses."

"Aye, you do. Did you learn a lot from your first husband?" Sandor asked, narrowing his eyes slightly in thought.

"What do you mean exactly? Se-" she remembered; her Hound hated knights. "-Sandor?"

"The Dothraki are fierce warriors, are they not? And your first Lord Husband...Have you ever killed someone, Your Grace?" The question hit her hard, she had killed lots of people; was he talking about the future that never happened, mocking her? Or anything else up to that point?

"There's no shame in it, Your Grace,” he snorted ironically, “but I do mean, yourself." he added. 

"...I have" she said, finally.

"How did that feel?" he asked her. She was afraid of the answer "Better than It should have." she said, honestly. She did not mean Drogo, but after him...

"No shame in that, your grace, killing is the sweetest thing there is...and you will need to be ready to do it again if we are all to survive..." She stared at him again, she knew what he meant. She was, after all, Azor Ahai.

 

But Daenerys was tired. She wanted to go home, to her loving husband and her boring duties. Back to ruling, something she actually enjoyed when everyone was not scheming behind her back. But Sandor’s words resonated with her. She would have to kill again, Brandon Stark among others. She felt discomfort with the idea of killing a cripple- even a two faced, evil one such as him- and perhaps she would need to kill the Night King this time. She didn’t like to admit that he still haunted her nightmares.

"I don't know how to use a sword, Sandor... not properly, I used one in the nightmare future we are trying to avoid,’ she huffed melancholically, “but those events never happened, and I was unskilled even then."

"Good," Sandor said. "It means I can teach you from scratch, and you won’t ignore my advice and teachings, Your Grace."

She noticed Jorah's horse had also stopped. They were two days on horseback from King’s Landing and they would spend the night at the inn.

"We are here, Your Grace..." called Jorah...

"Thank you, Ser." 

She turned back to Sandor. "So... what is the first lesson?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

"The first lesson," he said, grabbing the bridle of his horse to guide it to the stables of the inn, “is to get a proper armor and a decent sword."

* * *

 

“Your grace, a letter…” murmured Maester Marwyn.

“Give it to me,” said Quentyn through a mouth full of green grapes. He left the lute next to his bed and grabbed the letter, breaking the seal in the process.

He mumbled under his breath, reading the letter. “That I have decided…”  When he finished reading the letter, he threw it on the ground and strode to his desk.

“Anything of importance, Your Grace?” Marwyn asked, perplexed.

“Yes!” Quentyn responded loudly.

“Is it bad? Should I call the council?” Marwyn worried.

“Call the council, but no, it is good news,” Quentyn said, enthusiastically.

Marwyn paused, intrigued. “How so? Your Grace?”

“She’s coming back! Oh, my wife will be so happy when she finds out…and she agreed…” the king expressed joyfully.

“Agreed to what, Your Grace? Who’s coming back?”

“Lady Missandei! She comes in a fortnight!”

Marwyn smiled, then. “I will go and make everything ready,” he reassured his king.

* * *

 

Missandei liked the smell of the sea, there was nothing quite like it, she felt strange around the Ironborn but the men were loyal to Yara Greyjoy, who was loyal to her Queen...her friend, and that eased her fears a little bit.

When she had first learned that Daenerys took the Seven Kingdoms she was almost tempted to remain in Naath. Dany had never given her an explanation of why she didn't want her in Dragonstone save for some erratic and cryptic words: “I can't, I won't lose you again.”

"How are ye finding the voyage?" Dagmar inquired

"Fine, I actually quite like the smell of the sea," smiled Missandei. 

"That’s a good thing. We’ll reach King’s Landing soon… I’ve got ta say though, I would have stayed in that pretty little island of yours, far away from all the backstabbers and dramatics.” He spat over the side. “ Why’d ye decide to come here after all? Was it to be "Master of Whispers"? Because that doesn't sound too pleasant, ta be honest," he snorted.

"I thought about it, I considered for a while, staying. This is my land after all and they are my people...but...I think I might like the intrigue after all, and...and I have a good friend in there, a life even...perhaps I'm too rotten..."

"Nay," said Dagmer with a smile."Ye are jus’ unusual, and with t’ world changing so fast, the unusual are t’ best to lead us...My Lady."

No one had ever called Missandei 'My Lady' before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in case you are wondering, the last honorable man of the North is Tormund.
> 
> I just can't hate Tormund, I can't hate the entire Stark clan, I can hate the last two Lannisters, Varys, Samwell Tarly and just about everyone...but not Tormund.  
> So in this version, he's a bit more appreciative of Dany, I'm building him to be a future ally...
> 
> Also... Imma turn the Stark allies against them because "ThEy aRe NoT oNe oF uS" and they don't need allies...and this is my fic.
> 
> So, yeah, I know this chapter is a bit boring, I'm trying to build up and also...I'm kinda proud of the Sandor part, not the entire chapter, but the Sandor part. but we are getting to the good part...eventually I'll release a chapter called "The Dornishman's wife" and oh boy that one will be great, I promise.


	7. The Gauntlet, the Silk Glove and The Dried Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I loved a maid as fair as summer  
> with sunlight in her hair.
> 
> I loved a maid as red as autumn  
> with sunset in her hair.
> 
> I loved a maid as white as winter  
> with moonglow in her hair.

"You have to place your hand closer to the grip, your grace"...said the Hound.

"Otherwise, knocking your weapon will be as easy as doing this" after he said that, Sandor Clegane hit Dany's wooden sword in the middle of the blade, knocking it to the ground...

"Remember, always keep the sword at your opponent’s length, in a perfect diagonal line, that way, blocking becomes easier as does attacking and do not dance the sword around, hit in straight lines, on the points we agreed on..." he continued saying

"I'll try to remember that..." she said, sweating, tired, she had knelt to pick up her wooden sword.

She then stood up.

"Regardless, you have gotten a lot of progress the last two days, but you will not become any good soon and don't think you'll be off hook just because you are the queen or because you don't have a sword or an armor yet, as soon as we reach Kingslanding you will search for a bloody blacksmith you will commission a sword and an armor and we will practice every day, without exception...well, some exceptions...because this... " he said pointing at his sword with his massive hands "Takes years to master, and you WILL master it, so you can defeat the long night"  
"Do we have years, Sandor?" she asked.

"I do hope so, if not, remember that you could always kill him with fire..." Dany wondered about that, fire had done nothing to the Nighstking, and she wondered if it'd do anything to Bran Stark...on the other hand...he was still human... She remembered the people burning in Kingslanding,  _That never happened, and it will never happen, never again._

"We have to return to the party, Jorah will wonder where I've been, as will my Bloodriders and banner carriers, we are only one day away from Kingslanding..."

"Aye, and your belly begins to show...I promise we will stop when it becomes to visible...you have carried children before, haven't you your grace?" Asked her hound... _Yes, Rhaego_...he died, I don't want these ones to die.

"Maybe we should get back to the horses, Clegane, we need to reach my city in time... don't make me knight you..." she said.

The Gruff man gave her a smile.

"Aye, your grace, I shall be more careful."

 

* * *

 

She smiled at him and left the nearby lake to join with the rest of her party.

 

Sansa's cloak was heavy, as it was supposed to be, she didn't want to be seen, she didn't want her secret to be spilled like wine was, but still it made it very difficult for her to walk...she only did this to keep the secrecy.

 

Jon couldn't know; Sansa could have almost sworn that he was in love with her, each time he even mentioned the Dragon Queen's name he wouldn't cut himself short of listing all her qualities or mentioning why he wanted to lick her thighs and breasts.

He never outright said it, but he always spoke on and on about how jealous he was of King Quentyn.

 

Sansa couldn't stand him, she never could, but she had to pretend like she liked hearing him, or enjoyed hearing his stories about the wall or the winter or the watch, but on one hand he was right; They would die if this Dragon Queen refused to help them...but they could not ask for her...she reached Mole town, where she had agreed to meet somebody, they went inside a tent that served as a tavern and they both ordered a drink, and took a seat, as far away from prying eyes as possible

Sansa handed the stranger a bunch of coins.

"This...do you plan for me to kill a farmer? what am I supposed to do with this?..."  
"What we agreed on..." Sansa said.

"You don't have the coin for what we agreed on, she's a Queen; a very beloved queen, someone loved in Essos and in Dorne, in the Iron Islands and in Dragon's Bay, she has by her side the most dedicated knights; She's THE Queen not some pretty volantese whore..."

"You will receive the rest when the deed is done..." she said.

"Do you have that kind of money? I've heard this region is facing a harsh winter, that your dispute with House Lannister did not go too well..."  
"The entire point of this is to prevent a war..." Sansa said, if the Dragon Queen got disposed of quietly, the throne would have no heir, except for Jon, they would have to recognize him as the king since she had no heirs of her own...and in doing so, the North would avoid having to bend the knee or to starve...they had a third option.

"Still, this is very risky for me...and what you are giving me bareley covers for killing a maester"

"Fine!" said Sansa, she pulled another small bag, filled with golden dragons.

"Will that be enough?" she asked.

"Give me your horse and we have a deal…I shall take this as a small payment forwards if you wish"  
"Take the Horse..." she said.

Then, the hooded man, gave her a faint smile, that regardless, showed all his rotten teeth.

"Kiss me pretty for my safe journey, oh Lady Sansa, I part for Kingslanding tonight".

 

* * *

 

 

The three headed Dragon flew high, in every wall...Missandei had no idea she was so important...as they announced her presence as if she had been the queen herself.

Followed by a large group of knights carrying the banner, and she never felt prouder to be followed by such banner, but it also never ceased to amaze her...the Westerosi, including her queen, gods grace her, were a peculiar bunch.

The armors surprised her the most.

She remembered a few armors from her time in Mereen; Ser Jorah and... Ser Barristan...the old andal had always been good to her, to the queen...

 

The gates of the city opened and while she was being guided to the red keep she could hear trumpets and drums, Is this usual for the Westerosi?

She finally reached the gates of the city, there were men, all in armor, caring the three headed dragon banner and the pierced sun banner...other banners were visible too...the golden kraken, the yellow rose in the green field, a bunch of grapes in a blue field, a black stag rampant and holding a hammer on a yellow field and even Lord Tyrion's Golden Lion on a red field, which was outshined by another banner she had never seen before.

In front of these men, she saw a man with olive skin, with long wavy black hair, black clever viper eyes and a cropped beard, quite handsome...he was wearing a silk black tunic and a red sash, made out of velvet, crossing his shoulder to the side, wich was tied down with a brown belt and a silver buckle that held the sword he had in his right side he was also wearing a silver crown...it was a snake and a dragon touching the sun which had a ruby in the center of the sun...

 _So this is Quentyn_... Missandei thought, he had indeed been described as a handsome man, but he had not been described as a man THAT handsome, he looked more Essosi than he did Westerosi and she knew, she just knew, this was indeed the sort of man her grace needed, he also saw beside him an old woman, dressed in black who had a silver rose brooch in her right side of the chest.

 

"Lady Missandei, welcome! your presence shines like the sun upon us! I've had yet the pleasure to be formally introduced...I'm Quentyn Sand...or Quentyn Martell...no, forgive me, Quentyn Targaryen" he walked down the stairs, she was about to bow when she noted the Queen's Consort was hugging her, forgetting all formalities and when he stepped apart he kissed her right hand.

 

"The pleasure is mine, but I am afraid I am no Lady, Your Grace..."

"Nonsense! Yes you are, I hoped the letter my wife sent would mention it, she declared you Lady Missandei, she is willing to give you a castle to accompany the claim...there are a lot of empty castles in our possession after all...oh, and call me Quentyn"

"You flatter me, your Grace...uhm...Quentyn"

The old lady also walked down the stairs.

"How rude of me, my Lady, this is Lady Olenna of House Tyrell, and she has...an interesting proposition for you if you wish to hear it..."

"I would love to but...her grace..."

"Is only a few days from here, my dear..." said the old woman.

"Come! we have much to talk about…" And they guided her inside the castle.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...The Dornishman's wife isn't this chapter, but the thing is I've been writing The Dornishman's wife for a while now...and a while I mean like two chapters ago...  
> It will be my Magnum Opus...well no, my Magnum Opus is still chapter 9 of The Return of Dragons under my TargaryenPug pseud (Please read that one too) ...but The Dornishman's wife will be a second....
> 
> I appreciate all the kind words I've received in my inbox.  
> And don't worry, I am still very much a Targaryen Loyalist and a Dany stan so no, I won't hurt her, but you'll have to keep reading to find out what comes next...this started as a salt fic but it has grown yet I do not forget my roots as a saltfic writer.
> 
>  
> 
> But as a general idea, the title of the chapter always has some relationship with what the chapter is about (Guess who is The Gauntlet, guess who is the Silk Glove and guess who is The Dried Ink)  
>  
> 
> Oh and if you haven't...Read Vanity of Vanities by saltyblkgirl, The Nightmare in Her Dreams by esm3rald, From her Own Ashes She Rises by Scarmander and The Cold Remains the Same by WriterWolfe618.
> 
> Oh, and fair warning...this will get VERY anti Stark in the future, yes even more than in the first three chapters wich were the saltiest.
> 
> The Salt will return.
> 
> So there's that...  
> Fire and Blood.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.  
> Quentyn is that overly enthustiastic boyfriend who wants to meet his girlfriend's bffs so he can be their friend too, but I also imagine him with much of Oberyn's personality (this is after all, not book Quentyn but the unamed Prince of Dorne of the show).


	8. And Now My Watch Has Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hear my words and bear witness to my vow.  
> Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death.  
> I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.  
> I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post.  
> I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls.  
> I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men.  
> I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.

**_To Her Grace; Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Tagaryen, first of her name..._ **

**_Dear Queen Daenerys_ **

 

_It seemed that your suspicions were right, we have managed to range north to some degree, but the horses refuse to go any further than the place the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch calls "The Fist of the First Men"._

_I believe it's magic to a degree, it reminds me a little of the atmosphere in Quarth, it has definitely the same smell of death, though the Maesters won't confirm it...these two are either idiots or they are hiding something from us; either way the watch isn't much help either._

_I talked to the Lord Commander...Eddison...Tollet? (No offence, your grace, but Westerosi names are strange) and he provided little help, we didn't ask for food, or weapons or beds, we brought our own food, weapons and armor, but even the measly information we asked for was denied to us._

_Apparently saving the world isn't that important._

_The Lords of Eastwatch by the Sea and the Shadowtower weren’t much help either...But at least they have stayed out of our way, after all we ARE manning the empty castles and giving them, some manure and we are ranging to find these creatures that you described... The one where you stationed our forces, The Night fort, has some serious problems we are beginning to work on repairs but it would be nice to count with more additional coin and men to fix the issues, in secret of course, which brings me to the next order of business, The King in The North still thinks you sent only us and that we are only manning the Nightfort, we have managed to keep the Queensgate, Greyguard, Greenguard, Sablehall and Icemark in secret, not an easy task, I tell you, bringing so many men west of the narrow sea and then to the north in complete secret to man abandoned castles in secret without the men or the ships to be detected by anybody, not even the men of the Nightwatch._

_One of my proudest feats, your Grace, if you don't mind me saying._

_The code remains secret still...But I'm afraid that between us, the Stonecrows, the Windblown and the Stormbreakers, Iron shields and the maiden's men, we haven't found the thing you asked us to look for._

_Have I told you how many of us you sent north? have I told you how secret we remain? I'm still proud of that, your grace, and If you don't mind the flattery, that was a bit genius, a bit mad, but a bit genius, I shall forever be amazed by your cunning and strategy, your natural talent for warfare and espionage, though I wonder still what the point was...The Northeners probably would have been happy if they knew how many of us you sent to occupy these empty castles and to range..._

_During my short stay in Winterfell I observed a little, the King in The North is a bloody fool, I'm afraid, he's not planning anything, not really...his sister...though...She thinks herself clever, and she acted strange...she's not as clever as she thinks because she never realized I was spying her back..._   _But she is definitely up to something...she has no love for you, your grace and I believe she wanted us to fight her political enemies...the...Umbers? I think she also wanted the Vale and the Riverlands...we said no off course._

_Lastly...we encountered a group of wildlings...the...Thenn? I believe they are called the Thenn...I have no idea if they are or not allied with the free folk who went to the caravan to the south...but we feel like we might have found something important from them...they keep mentioning a tree...A...Godswood? forgive me your grace but your people are strange._

_Regardless, there seems to be some promise there, and as soon as we find out why they haven't traveled with the rest of them, we'll let you know..._

 

 

 

_Love, eternally yours... Your Loyal servant..._

 

 **_Daario Naharis_ ** _...captain of the Second Sons..._

 

_P.D_

_This will come to you with a white raven, the code is sealed, so the old fools of the citadel won't be able to read this so the content of this letter is safe; but the raven is a bit different, I believe it means that winter is here._

* * *

 

 

She reached the city in little time, she rode past the banners and adoring crowds, she knew Missandei was there, that was all she needed to know.

The adoring crowds, in another life they had turned on her, but Missandei...Missandei had always been a constant...and she was glad to have her back...

 

She didn't even mother to dismount her black stallion  _Vermithor_  until she reached the throne room, and from there, her guards, dothraki and Sandor had a hard time keeping up with her; she reached finally the council room, she saw the brand new tapestry on the wall, the conquers of Aegon the Conqueror, and she could have sworn a bunch of her own life in it, the birthing of the dragons, the conquest of Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen, the Burning of the Khals, the voyage from Mereen to Dragonstone, the taking of Kingslanding, Dornishmen, Ironborn, Knights both foot and mounted and Dothraki screamers were present in the tapestry...

But not meeting Jon Snow, not traveling beyond the wall, not Viserion dying, not Rhaegal falling into the water, not the battle of Winterfell, not the burning of Kingslanding and not her own death...

 

She stopped staring at the tapestry and stared at the people in the council, Yara Greyjoy, Lady Olenna, Greyworm, Lord Gendry...Her Husband...Missandei... She ran to hug her, tight enough that the air might leave her lungs "A little softer your grace" Missandei begged, she then let go of her to kiss her husband with passion, much to the discomfort to everyone present, specially Jorah.

"My lords, my ladies..." she said afterwards...

"My hand, Ser Jorah Mormont, my trusted man, my loyal bear, you shall follow him as you follow me..." She then smiled, grabbing the pin in his chest, and bowing like a bard after a song, after the applause of the people present.

"And the Lord Commander of My Queensguard, Sandor Clegane..." Sandor made less presentations of himself, he growled, and he bowed a little, but not too much; Yara, Quentyn and Greyworm applauded, but Gendry and Olenna only stared briefly at each other with mild confusion.

"I shall explain everything..." she promised her small council, and afterwards she went to seat in the Table header, while both Jorah and Sandor remained standing up.

"My lords, my ladies, we have much to catch on..." said Jorah before taking a seat himself.

 

* * *

 

"Did I told you how much I missed you" Dany asked, her goblet had, instead of wine, the mash juice of oranges and grapes, freshly cut from her garden, next to her prized lemon tree...

But Missandei did have wine in her goblet...

"You have, your grace..." she said, bareley moving from her seat  
"There is no need to keep calling me "Your Grace", I am just Dany, to you, to Jorah and to my husband..."  
"Fine, I...I admit that I was a bit hurt when you sent me away, Do you remember when we met Daenerys?, I have been besides you ever since, you once called me your most trusted advisor...that day...you acted..."  
"Erratic? nervous?... Mad? I was a little" Said Dany interrupting her friend.

They both stared at the balcony, that part of the Red Keep had the greatest view of all, it looked straight at the docks, they could see the ships, the sea and the fishermen...Quite a lot of the ships in that dock were new, Missandei saw the flagpoles; the red three headed dragon rampant in half of those ships, a golden kraken in a black field in another good portion of those ships, a few ships with the red pierced sun in the orange field and a few ships that belonged to merchants and fishermen and even some foreign diplomats that came to form a trade route with the Kingdom or to sell spices to the queen...a bunch of those ships they recognized from when they ruled over Mereen.

 

The beautiful landscape, almost distracted Missandei from her frustrations with her friend. 

But then she began to talk again, her voice was sincere, Missandei knew, that Dany never lied to her.

"I have, visions, you know, since the House of The Undying...I’ve had visions at times, that show me the future, the past and other things, and that day, I had a vision that was...particularly frightening; now, I never had any family save from Viserys, and while Viserys was sometimes kind, he also did scare me, I consider you, Grey Worm, Ser Jorah...Ser Barristan...my family, the one I never had, and what I saw..." her violet eyes turned somber.

"I believe you, your grace, but please, don't push me aside..." Said Missandei.

"I won't...never again..." promised the queen, like a sister promises to another sister.

"So, at least the visions have changed, I assume..."

"They have..." Admitted Daenerys...

"And it looks like everything is working for the better...isn't it?" asked Missandei

“We have much to talk about” answered her friend, the queen.

 

 

 

* * *

 

"So... why me" asked Missandei...

Lady Olenna gave her a sad smile "Margaery was about your age when she passed, she was smart, like you, and beloved by the people, smallfolk and noble, Loras, though he was...not as bright, was a good lad, gentle, and a decent enough warrior...they were all I had, I am the last of House Tyrell, Lady Missandei...and unlike your queen, I cannot recover myself from that statue, as I am too old, and I have no one to pretends me...not all of us can be swayed by a handsome dornish prince, so I cannot recover from being, sadly, the last Tyrell...Ser Preston Redwyne, my grandnephew and only living relative... is on all accounts...a moron, but he's my last living relative and as such once I join the seven devils he will be Lord of the Reach...and because he's an idiot he will get himself killed somehow and then every house in the reach will be at each other's throat claiming to have some ancestry of Garth Greenhand, which they probably do...I could probably just pick a sellsword as a successor, but then he would be killed and the infighting would continue forever, we are lucky her grace is here to put order, but even for her it will become complicated..."

"I am flattered, my lady, but still that doesn't answer my question...why me?"

"You, are smart, as smart as my granddaughter was, Preston is, as I said, a moron, and besides, the true reason is that they will hate it...all of them have pretty young daughters of old blood and the mind power of cheese, pretty the bunch of them, but ultimately useless, but you, you are a member of the small council, you have already in your name Hornhill and Stokeworth...Lady Missandei...all you really need to complete the change is a second name, and a baby, and once the baby is born, Preston can be disposed of, and you and Lord Greyworm may be able to marry, or to continue to see each other, in fact...even if Preston doesn't fall of his horse, you will continue to have your time alone with Lord Greyworm because my nephew is that foolish and he needs to secure his line that badly..."

Missandei had to think about it, talk about it with Greyworm...she was honestly shocked she was being offered Highgarden, she was after all, a foreigner without a second name, a former slave, and a scribe...but she could not outright say no, because it tempted her.

"Think about it, won't you? talk about it with your handsome eunuch of yours and her grace... and come back to me with the answer, my dear, we might have a future together..." she said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, pretty much...The Second sons became the new nighstwatch with the slight difference that they are loyal, to the queen...  
> I finished writing "The Dornishman's wife..." and that shall be the next chapter.
> 
> Also, I am taking some elements from the books, see, in the books, Dany isn't fireproof but she has prophetic dreams, much like Bran...well in this story she has both habilities, and if you have been reading so far, you know why.
> 
> and one last thing, this chapter isn't in chronological order.


	9. The Dornishman's Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,  
> And her kisses were warmer than spring.  
> But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,  
> And its kiss was a terrible thing.
> 
> The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,  
> in a voice that was sweet as a peach,  
> But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,  
> and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
> 
> As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,  
> And the taste of his blood on his tongue,  
> His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,  
> And he smiled and he laughed and he has sung,
> 
> "Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,  
> the Dornishman's taken my life,  
> But what does it matter, for all men must die,  
> And I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm serious, don't read this if you are pro-Stark...Jon, Arya, Sansa...I won't be merciful to any of them, turn away.

* * *

 

Dany woke up early that day, her head still lied down in her husband’s thick arm, both had their hair loose and ungroomed.

She could hear the birds in the horizon, the markets and the people in the busy streets but Quentyn was a heavy sleeper, and she didn’t wish to bother him.

She stood up, as slowly and quietly as possible, still naked from the night before, she walked to the balcony to observe her kingdom, with pride, with happyness with a smile, not a queenly smile but a real smile upon her lips, and then while she was observing, looking the people, the garden and the servants from afar, she was getting mentally ready to get dressed; it had been a while since she could hide her swole belly in any dress, and of course, she couldn’t really fit on her brand-new armor or practice her sword fighting with Sandor anymore, she was greatful that at least, the triplets were more tranquil than Rhaego had been... still, she had to at least continue her duties of ruling. She got a good look of the city from the balcony, feeling the soft air against her naked skin, and she then turned to see Quentyn, who remained asleep, but he had a massive smile on his face…

Everything was good, she only remembered once when she was this happy; The red door, Ser Willem, Viserys, The Lemon Tree…that had been a long time ago, even in Mereen, even with Jon she hadn't really felt like this _Specially with Jon_ and she was beginning to get hopeful of the future.

Finally, she got out of the balcony and entered the room again, just in time to witness her princely husband wake up as well, far more slowly than she had, almost like a reptile that had just gotten out into the sun.

“Good morning, Queen Daenerys” he said with a hint of malice, and seductive, playful tone to his voice, it made her smile…

“Good morning, King Quentyn” she said, giving back the malice and seductive playfulness on her voice she had received, and it was refreshing, it was diferent from the stoicness of Jon, from the malice of Daario or the fury of Drogo.

They both smiled, Dany walked to get close to her husband, so she could kiss him in the cheek, but walking had become a slower affair for the queen, so much so, that she had ordered the small council to bring their chairs and tables next to her room, so she wouldn’t walk stairs up or down, no more than necessary of course, she still needed to walk to the throne room daily. Quentyn finally stood up, she saw his well-formed body and she smiled for herself; it was hers, hers to do with as she pleased, hers to bend to her will, she was the queen and it was hers to be observed as she pleased… “I’ll go get dressed, Dany…oh I was forgetting also…” he said, walking to her to kiss her hand and touch her cheeks “Perhaps tonight we could be left alone, share a meal together and maybe bring a bard here to play something for us…” she liked the idea, she liked the idea of being alone with him...he was hers after all.

“I’d like that, sure…” she said smiling…she very much liked the idea of spending a night with her husband.

He left the room and she began to get dressed, this new life…she quite liked it.

While she was getting dressed, she began hearing some notice, it distracted from putting on the lower part of the gown, but she quickly brushed it off… _It probably was Balerion_ she had encountered a cat, older than she was, in the castle and it was famous among the servants for being too combative, the cat's story was probably as sad as her own, but perhaps if she could finally find a happy ending, a scape from her rage, sadness and recentment, from the bitterness she was begining to form in Winterfell and begining to loose here, so could the poor cat; maybe Balerion could move on from Rhaenys, and the sack of the city...But while she dwelled in her thought, she kept hearing the movement.

She finished dressing, almost at least, it had become hard since her belly had grown so big, but she insisted on doing it on her own.

She kept hearing movement and she almost let it pass until she noticed someone in the mirror while she was fixing her hair, a man, skinny, not too tall, with a huge grin, rotten teeth and a large scar that went from his top eyebrow to his lower lip. Dany slowly grabbed a sword that she kept hidden next to her mirror, she turned slowly to meet the man eye to eye.

“’Ello, your grace…I’ll beg of ye not to call anyone…” “Who are you?” she asked slowly.

“s’me fool…I’m sorry yer grace, I have nothing against ye, but I have a job to do…” Dany grabbed her sword tighter. _Always grab the sword above the pommel, keep my enemy in a straight line, don’t dance the sword, hit straight_ she said to herself, trying to remember what Sandor had taught her, the man jumped at her with the dagger in his hand, she managed to cut his right cheek and part of his chest, he walked behind a little, he touched his cheek which was bleeding and smiled.

“Heh, yer fierce, yer grace…I’ll have to charge more”

She stood, sword in hand, she was the Dragon’s daughter and she was afraid of no one.

“You are not the first…” she told him; she had been chased by would-be-assassins all her life.

"Aye, but I will be the last" said this man, with a grin on his face.

He charged again, which she blocked, but not before he managed to make a small cut in her left arm…after which he kept charging and charging and she kept blocking…still her heavy belly made it difficult for her to coordinate her movements, and the would be assassin continued to gain ground.

She yelled, of course, she knew her Bloodriders and Sandor where a bit far away, but still she needed to fend this man as much as possible.

At some point she felt to the ground, the assassin managed to cut part of her left eyebrow, he tried also to stab her in the belly and in the chest, but she still managed to block his attacks with her sword.

He was too close to kill her, she tried to fend him as much as possible but she wasn’t yet an expert of the sword and she was now heavily pregnant and not that far away from giving birth, unable to move with a sword and an armor the way she could only a few moons ago, and more defenseless that she liked to be…but she then saw something, a man with a spear pushed away the assassin…it was Quentyn.

He was moving with a speed and agility she had never seen before, each time the assassin, himself a quick fighter, charged at him, Quentyn managed to dodge and to cut him a little with the spear, Dany began to stand up as she saw the men continuing to fight.

Quentin’s movements where quick, he dodged, and then he strikes, fast, like a viper.

She had never quite seen her royal husband as a warrior or a fighter, he never advertised himself as such, he was a man of wit and charm, of books and of people but not quite a man of weapons, and yet here he was, dancing with a spear, and with a man that would end her life not that long ago, there was her husband…a demon of the spear, fighting against her would be assassin.

“Who sent you?” asked Quentyn after dodging an attack and having disarmed one of the assassin’s weapons, the assassin grabbed a short sword from his belt and tried to hit Quentyn in his ribs with the sword, which he avoided blocking the weapon with his spear.

“That ain’t yer business!” he said, trying to slash Quentyn’s legs which he then blocked again with his spear.

“I will not ask again, who sent you” said Quentyn, jumping and slashing the would-be assassin’s right shoulder while he was in the air.

“I ain’t talking…” he said, he tried to slash Quentyn’s legs while Quentyn was in the air, but he kicked the assassin in the head before falling to the ground, standing up in perfect form like a cat.

“So be it then” Said Quentyn, before knocking the guy on the ground and piercing his chest with the spear.

She saw Sandor and her Bloodriders running in the hall towards her, and while Sandor was helping her get up again, Quentyn, in a cold and somber demeanor she had never seen him before, grabbed the assassin’s body and began searching for something…still he dropped it once Dany was on her feet, he ran to her to hug her, as tight as possible.

“My love, are you alright?” he said, he was hugging her tight…

“I’m fine…just a little startled” she said, wiping a bit of the blood from her eyebrow.

Quentyn ran back again to the assassin, who was dying and singing “ _The…The Dornishman’s wife…was as fair as the sun…”_ he maintained a huge smile in his face while the color was leaving his face…

Quentyn was enraged “WHO SENT YOU?” He said while grabbing the dying assassin by the collar.

“ _And her kisses were warmer than…spriiiiiing_ ” … he said before dying, Quentyn didn't waste much time after, he ran straight to his wife to hug her...he kept saying "I'm sorry" over and over again, and Dany too hugged him as hard as she could, so strongly that she might have never alowed him to leave, both had their faces buried in each other...

“Your grace…” said one of the soldiers who had searched the Assassin’s body while Quentyn was hugging Dany…

“What?” asked Dany and Quentyn in unisonous tone…both, startled, furious and quite emotional...

“We found this…” it was a blood-soaked parchment, new…Dany walked, limping, towards it and yanked the scroll from the soldier’s hand…the wax seal, it was grey wax and it had a dire wolf sigil, snarling…

Dany could feel her blood boil.

“I helped them, TWICE! I let them go a second time, I sent soldiers to the wall, I didn’t even demand their allegiance, I supressed my rage and desire, and after everything I've done for them these bloody northerners and their bloody SCHEEMES!” Dany rarely yelled, she tried, often to keep her composure, even when she was angry, which was more often than she was proud to admit, she kept her voice in check, she never elevated her voice, she never yelled...but now rage was bareley suppressed, her hand was shaking and her fists where tightening while grasping the air,  and her lip was twitching and Quentyn too was fuming, tightening his fist so hard that it became red, he never even realized he was bleeding too. She realized it mattered, she realized he looked out for her, _Her Dornishman…Her Viper…_ she realized he truly looked out for her, she realized that he was truly loyal. Quentyn was willing to die for her...

The scar in her chest hurt...it burned like the fire never had.

“They will pay…” said Quentyn, with quiet rage in his voice, _if he is as enraged as I am then he is already twice the man Jon was, for when Varys tried to poison me…Jon felt pity…for him._ A mix of emotions stormed in her head, love for the dornish because her dornishman had protected her and the feeling of betrayal from the man she once loved, who once loved her…and even if that had never happened…he was her nephew, her kin and he **knew** it. _Your enemies cannot betray you…Only your friends can…_ She remembered Viserys saying once.

“You!” she said, pointing at one of her soldiers… “Your grace?” he asked

“Fetch me quill and paper! and you, call the council” she said, without realizing how loud her voice had become…

“This…this means war”.

They had just awoken the dragon.

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The big one. 
> 
> My magnus opus! (Unless you read The Return of Dragons). 
> 
> Buckle up! 
> 
> Princess Brexit has no idea what she has gotten herself into... 
> 
> Sooooooo... Dany at this point is a decent fighter, but she's also very heavely pregnant, so fending off the assasin would be a tad bit hard. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm kind of proud of this chapter. Oh, and everything I've set so far will pay off, because unlike Dumb and Dumber I understand what pay off mean; so don't give up on my story just yet, I have no idea how long will be but it will also get more plot heavy, after all salt and smut alone won't make the fiction, though the salt and smut will get much, heavier...I'll add some of the book characters, but like Quentyn, they will be kinda different (Hey if D&D can take only the names and then do whatever, then so can I)...So...wich character should I add a POV of?
> 
> And also, no, I'm not abandoning the political plot with Missandei or Daario.


	10. Willem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Little princess, there you are. Come, come to me, my lady, you're home now, you're safe now.
> 
> -Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.  
> -Ser Willem is a good man and true.
> 
> -No one ever kept me safe when I was little. Well, Ser Willem did, but then he died.

"I'm not getting any younger" admitted Ser Willem bitterly to the mirror, he had been handsome in his youth, mighty even...but now he was losing most of his hair, keeping at shoulder length the few gray hairs he had left, his once hard muscle was beginning to turn into fat...

His arms were still thick and muscular, but his belly betrayed his noble profession as a knight, still he kept his mustache and his whiskers, but now less as a disguise and more to cover the wrinkles and scars in his cheeks and lips.

It worried him, truth to be told, more for the sake of the little princes than it did for his own vanity, though his vanity was definitely hurt too.

"Ser Willem?" he heard a voice asking him, a sweet innocent voice, the voice of the person he loved more than anything in the world.

"What's the matter Princess?" he turned to see a little girl, with bright violet eyes full of turmoil and intelligence, with silver hair and chubby cheeks, and she saw him, in his sleeping robe rather than his armor and cloak, when he looked less like a knight and more like a fat braavosi.

"I had a bad dream" she had them often, much to the sorrow of the old knight, he wished he could protect her in her dreams too.

he lifted her and put her in his shoulders...  
"What did you dream about? Princess?" he asked with a sweet voice...the sweetest voice he had, the one he reserved only for her.

"That I was a monster, that a city burned and that everyone ran from me, I saw a dragon, and it was scary and it had violet eyes like mine...Ser...Am I a monster?" she asked him sadly, it broke his heart, to see her afraid and alone.

"Oh, Princess! why would you ask that?" She was the sweetest little girl there was in the world, the one he loved as if she were his own flesh and blood..."Because, If what you say is true, and I am indeed the blood of the dragon like Viserys...everyone says Dragons are monsters..."

"They were not, Princess, and you musn't fear the king, he loves you, you two are all you have left..." he said

"I have you" she said, defensive... _Do you though?_  he was old, he wished he could be her father..."Yes, Princess, you have me!" he said..."And I'd give my life for you..." the last part was true.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys woke up, she was in her bed, she saw the stag's head in front of her, she felt the silk sheets and she saw their color purple, she felt the warmth of the sun coming through the curtains and the sunbeams that bathed her in sun light, the first thing she felt was her husband's beard pressed against her cheek, she turned to see him and he was standing right beside her, right beside her bed, in his orange clothes but using the black cloak she had put on his shoulders the day they had married and on his head the tiny dragon and snake crown the septon had put on his head after, behind him were Maester Marwyn who was observing her with attention, who had a glass with a green liquid, Ser Jorah in his bright new clothes, with the silver pin she had given him and on the door she saw Sandor Clegane in his white armor, and Missandei in a bright green dress.

"What happened?" she asked

"You fell after you called the council, we rushed the Grand Maester here so he could examine you, we were unsure if you were going to make it...but I know you are strong" said Jorah, Dany was fine until she remembered something, she realized, all of the sudden that her belly was flat again...She thought of Rhaego, her first, she thought of that night in the tent, of Mirri Maz Duur 

 

_When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child._

 

"My Children!" 

"Are fine!" said Quentyn, her husband, calming her...calming that part of her that was so deeply worried about her blood, that feared that she might lose her children, again...

 

"Grand Maester Marwyn managed to deliver him even in your unconscious state..." he added "They are in the nursery, a wet-nurse is tending to them, as she shall be for a while"  
"...All of them healthy, your grace!" added Marwyn...

"Like I said, strong little Dragons, as strong as their mother, A girl and two boys, though the last one is a bit small but strong nevertheless... though you need time to recover, your grace..." She did not feel strong, the last she remembered was being attacked by an assassin and then...waking up. She remembered the next thing...she promised war, didn't she? 

"The War Council..." 

"Will come, now that you've woken up my love..." said Quentyn kissing her hands "They will not get away with it..." said Yara, who Dany hadn't noticed in the room earlier "...Sending assassins after a pregnant woman, it's low and it will be punished..." it was Lord Gendry this time, who spoke with anger and vitriol, for the looks of it, he was disappointed in his former friends...

"Do not call the war council, not yet, first I need to gather my people, Marwyn!" Ordered Daenerys...

"Your Grace!" 

"Fetch me ink and paper, I need at least a good docent parchment, fetch me my seal and wax..." she ordered, she was going to call to banners.

 

* * *

 

 

"The market is not a good place for a princess to be..." said Willem...he was beginning to lose power over his leg...

"I am not a princess!" Daenerys protested, Willem smiled at the young girl  _If I had my own, would she be like the Princess? would she have her spirit and kindness?_

"Yes, you are, in fact you are the Princess of Dragonstone, you are His Grace's heir, and it should make you proud, it is a great honor!"

"But I want to be a fisherman!"

"Fisherwoman, and I'm sorry Princess, but you are ment for great things" she looked at him making the face, gods, the face, he yielded at that face.

"If I am a princess, and you are just a knight, then you have to yield to my commands!" 

"That's cheating!"

"It's not! take me with you!" she said...he could not say no to her...she was not his blood, but she was his daughter as much as he was King Aerys's should the gods rest his soul, and even if she were not the princess, even if she were not ment for greatness like he hoped the young King would be, he would die for her, he'd do anything for her and he could not resist the face.

"Very well, princess, I shall take you to the market"...

 

* * *

 

 

"What were you THINKING!?" Asked Jon, furious, enraged, at Sansa, for the first time, expressing that anger.

"If it works you will be king, she has no heirs and her line ends with her and..."  
"GODS! Sansa! You have no idea what you've done! WE NEEDED HER!" he said, grasping his fists dangerously close to Longclaw, he didn't leave his seat, the hall was empty and yet they were both seating on the long table.

"I was thinking of the north! of our legacy of our..." she could see the fury in his eyes, she could see his hand tightening dangerously close to the pommel of his sword.

"You ruined our chances of ever having an alliance, you ruined our best chance against them, we needed her..." Said Jon, clenching still the fist of his sword hand, while holding Longclaw's pommel... "You better hope your assassin succeeded, because if he fails... we are all dead, they will march here and kill us all..."  he said under his gritted teeth... Sansa looked at his face, his gray eyes, his scar and she suddenly felt afraid of Jon. 

And she remembered, she knew it was a gamble, she knew the Dragon Queen was the most powerful person in the world, mighty even among other kings and queens, she perhaps ruled all over the known world, but if her man succeeded, that empire would soon be hers, and Jon's too...if he ever appreciated it.

"You never saw them, but they are real...and they can't be defeated that easily...and you, sweet sister, ruined our best chance of survival yet, I've worked hard to avoid the grim future that awaits all of us if the dragon queen doesn't help us..."

"And if it comes between you and the north, dear sister, I will give you to the Dragon Queen in a nice bow...so you better hope there's no war..." he said, before he stood up, pushed the chair and the table and walked away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Don't look Princess..." he said, trying to cover those big violet eyes of her...He did not mind the dead man in the street, or his involvement in his new state, but he did not wanted the young princess to witness such atrocities.

"Who is he?" she asked her protector, her old knight...

"A bad man, Princess..." he said to her...the look on her face was less than pleasing, she was scared...

"He didn't seem so bad..." she said with tears in her eyes, gods, this little girl, she was good and kind and she did not deserve to look upon such horrible things...but he couldn't not do it, his duty was, above all, to protect her and the little king.

"Look at me..." he said, kneeling, so he could stare at her eyes...her beautiful eyes...

"He was a bad man, Dany, he wanted to hurt you..." it pained him to tell her this, she almost always wanted to make friends with anyone, she had made friends with the fishermen of the docks, with the whores close to the market, to the sailors and cutthroats that somehow had all agreed that she was cute, Willem had been damn lucky that none of them wanted to hurt her, because as small as she was she was swift like the wind and without notice she would go from one place to the next, so innocent...so good, but this had not been a merchant or even a friendly cutthroat...this had been an assassin, he had not been the first, but Ser Willem was getting older and slower with age, and thus he had been the first she ever realized that existed...

"Not all people are good princess, you can't be friends with everyone, you can try, sure, you can try to be the best and help anyone and you can try to give your heart to every person on this world...but it will end with a dagger at your back, princess, this man...gods be merciful, this man was here to...kill...you" he tried to explain to her this as tactfully as he could..."and he wanted to kill your brother too...he wouldn't have turned into your friend, and neither would the usurper's dogs...Princess...there will be few people you can trust, don't forget that..."

Dany kept staring at the dead man in the street...The man he had killed to protect her, he would do it again...

"Come on, Princess, let's get some Honey Fingers, shall we?" he said, trying to cheer the young dragonling up...he hated seeing her sad.

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Disgraceful" said Tormund when he found out...

"They would do that to a pregnant woman?" asked Figa, while she was trying to light fire, the Queen's armies had offered their help, but Figa was a proud woman and she preferred to do her own hunting and her own fires...

"Apparently so..." said Tormund in a dry tone..."The Jon Snow I met wouldn't have done that..." he said, with disgust in his face, sure the kneeler queen had been nice, warm and they owed her some gratitude, but he considered Jon to be like one of their own, a free folk, different from the southron kneelers...he wouldn't try to kill a pregnant woman, would he? where was the honor in that? 

"Who said that?" he asked, Figa pointed her finger at one of the copper skinned warriors with long braids and bells on their braids, a young lad...

"Pono I think it is..." she didn't mention his name loud enough but apparently, he heard, he turned to see them, he unhorsed, and he approached Tormund and Figa's fire, slowly...

"Har..." said Tormund lifting his horn...

"Har" answered the Dothraki lifting his own cup, the one he had hanging in his belt, which clearly had liquid.

"Is it true? that someone tried to kill the queen of Dragons?" 

Figa translated what Tormund asked, he saw the Dothraki's face go from serious, to angry and then to resentful, before he even began to talk, he then began talking fast and he watched as Figa followed carefully his pattern of speech...

"It is, Pono says the Haleesi fend the assassin off, and killed him barehanded, he says that the men in their iron skirts are rallying angry and they wish to take revenge for their Haleesi, he says also that he wished to join the rest of the Halazar and take revenge too, but he was ordered to remain here with the free folk by the...Bloodriders...or something...that the assassin bared a Northern seal..." 

Tormund feared the worst, no, Jon wouldn't send an assassin after a pregnant woman, that was a southron thing to do, dishonorable and utterly wrong...

"Ask him what shape was in the seal..." he said, fearing the answer.

Figa talked fast to the Dothraki rider and he talked faster to her, he wondered how she had learned their language in such a short period of time.

"He says it's a dog, a snarling dog that looks like a ferret..." right then Tormund realized that what he feared had happened...

"I need to take a nap" he said, while he continued to hear Figa's and Pono's talk with each other; perhaps he had placed his faith in the wrong southron.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, the wildlings have done much worse, and good honorable jen sne wouldn't have done that...  
> But first of all, the wildlings don't send assassins, if they wish you dead they try to kill you themselves, and second...I can do what I want...
> 
> Now, to my readers...
> 
> the next chapter will be also sort of filler, very similar to this one, and in a sort of similar format; in case you are wondering Ser Willem Darry is a post mortem, book character that supposedly raised Daenerys and Viserys during their infancy in Braavos until he died and she and Viserys were forced to flee their home and beg and you know the rest...He is never mentioned in the show though, and I wanted Dany to have her own Dadvos, Ser Willem sort of fitted before he died, I might give her own present day Dadvos later, and borrow the name from some obscure book character, but let's just say I have a soft spot for good ol’, Ser Willem.
> 
> The next chapter will also be kind of filler, but then we get to the good part...the War part...I might include Arya in the future, I might not, truth is I don't know what I'd do with her but I'm open to suggestions.


	11. Call the Banners Pt1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> The Salt, the briddle, the fire and steel!
> 
> For whe sound the drums of war, oh yes!  
> oh yes! the drums of war!
> 
> Red shall turn the hills! red shall turn the stones  
> and red shall turn their castles.  
> Red shall be their tears and on them It shall be called.
> 
> Upon them oh, I know, Oh I Know.
> 
> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> Make their banners burn, make their banners weep.  
> Make their banners beg, make your banners chant  
> The victory on their feet.  
> Make their horns sound, make your horns sing.  
> Make their horses tremble and their maidens weep.
> 
> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> Call upon your banners, and make their song so sweet  
> The song of war, the song of steel.

 

_Dear Daario_

_On your last letter you asked me why I moved so many people north in secret, why did I order you to take the abandoned castles in secret._

_It served a double purpose, the first would be, of course, to keep an eye on the northern side of the wall without warning the northers or the Nightswatch._

_The second was to have a force stationed north, should it come to war._

_Well, it has come to war, an attempt has been made on my life by the sister of Jon Snow, I believe she was not acting on his command, but regardless, I promised bloody vengeance on the north if they tried anything and they have, and I am a woman of my word._

_Do not attack yet, I am rallying the rest of my forces, The Dothraki and the Unsullied are already on my disposal and they alone would make a formidable force against the north, but I am planning on making an example of the northerners, Nobody awakes the Dragon and lives to tell the tale, as this letter reaches you I am also rallying the Houses of Dorne, The Reach and The Iron Islands._

_So, if I am writing you this and ordering you not to attack yet, why am I writing?_

_Well, I do want you to begin to be ready, send some scouts south, as always discreetly, to tell me about the weaknesses of all the castles in the north, as well as their strengths._

_Lastly, I have one instruction left to ask you..._

_Do not reply to this letter, when the time comes, another shall arrive in High Valyrian... Get ready then._

_Her Grace; Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name, Khaleesi of the Great Dothraki Sea, Queen of the six and soon to be seven kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons._

_Fire and Blood._

 

 

* * *

 

 

The recovery was slow, after a week she could leave her bed and walk again and after three days she retook the sword lessons with Sandor Clegane, she had not yet seen her children, she feared to. While she was busy, her master of ships, Yara Greyjoy had left for the Iron Islands to rally the Ironborn for the next war, something Dany was certain they were excited about, in the case of the knights of the reach, it was different, Lady Olenna had written a letter to her nephew and heir, Ser Preston Redwyne, and he would bring the knights of the Reach to Kings landing to join with the rest of their forces...

Lastly, there were the Dornishmen, Quentyn's people, the ones she knew she could rely on, her good-sister, Princess Arianne Martell, was rallying her troops too; the only odd ones there would be the Riverlands and The Vale, on usual circumstances, allies of the North, and she feared, if ever slightly, that they would ally with the North yet again, despite having released Lord Edmure Tully from the dungeons during her conquest campaign, he was still the uncle of the mud snake that had sent her would be assassin, and young Robert Arryn, who was not all there, also happened to be the cousin of Lady Stark...She would destroy the north, no doubt about it, but she did not want to destroy the Riverlands and the Vale too...She knew also, that if she asked for the help of the Westerlands it would not be much help either, not only had they suffered quite so many losses, but since releasing Lord Tyrion from her small council she had detected contempt and slight hostility, still some men would be sent from there too.

She had sent envoys to deal with them, Ser Daemon Sand had been sent to speak with Lord Edmure, because as Quentyn described Ser Daemon, he was the most charming man in Dorne, he had been his late uncle's squire, and that had made him be a man of absolute trust for both Quentyn and Arianne and Dany had absolute trust in anyone her husband had trust in, and to the Vale, she had sent Ser Bonnifer Webber to speak on her behalf with “Sweet-Robyn” she had more faith in Ser Daemon than she had on Ser Bonnifer.

A Sweet voice interrupted her thoughts…

“My love?”

She then dropped the wooden sword on the ground, Sandor gently put down the flour sack…

“Quentyn”

“You have to eat something! And you should meet our children too, they take after you…”

Sandor understood bowed ever slightly and left the room, so he could be guarding from outside.

“Quentyn, I…”  
“Dany! Please!” she could not resist her husband words…

She followed her husband, they sat in front of each other, and Quentyn himself took a bite and a sip of everything she ate and drank before she did…he just wanted to make sure that she did, in fact, ate and drank something, and after that much was done Dany followed her Husband to the nursing room, she saw three cradles there…and tears began rolling down her cheek…She never cried, she had trained herself to keep an aloof and stoic mask but right then and there, her cheeks became wet…

Quentyn rushed to hug her and to gently accommodate her head in his chest “See?” he told her “You are not alone, we will protect you, I love you, we love you”.

“She smiled and looked again at her husband, “Thank you Quentyn” his cheeks too were wet.

“How will you name them?” there were two boys and a girl, all with their father’s copper skin and their mother’s platinum hair and bright violet eyes, one of them, was a tad small, one of the boys…all were asleep in their cradles…

“This one…” she said picking up the girl, “Shall be named Rhaella, like my mother, bless her memory, she will be heir to the Iron Throne, Princess of Dragonstone”, she then put her back to pick the biggest of the boys “This one, looks like you, I shall name him Oberyn, like your daring uncle, legendary warrior, and a man of honor…” and she put him down to before she picked up the smallest of them… “This one, shall be named Willem, I never had a father to love me, but Ser Willem Darry was a man loyal and good and the closest thing I ever got to a father, and he shall be loved like Ser Willem loved me…” she said…

But now she had more reasons to go to war, she had three little dragonlings and she had to protect them, no matter what.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Arianne_

_The Gods have blessed me to have you as a good-sister, I could never be grateful enough for the help Dorne and you have provided so far, nor for the wonderful match you have arranged._

_And on that regard, it is with a heavy heart that I must ask something of you, I ask not only as your good sister, but as your queen too._

_Recently I suffered an attempt on my life, I survived of course, but the fact remains that I almost did not, your niece and nephews are fine, healthy and alive as is my husband, your brother, but this attack on me was too an attack on them, I ask you to call your banners and to come to Kingslanding, because from there we shall take the North._

_We shall make a fire so large that it will be seen from miles, they will learn not to mess with our families… I am hereby asking you to call upon your banners, this means war, the moment they sent men it was as much a declaration of war against House Martell as it was against House Targaryen._

_Fire and Blood._

_Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken…_

_Your Good Sister, Daenerys of House Targaryen, first of her name._

 

* * *

 

Arianne read the expressions of the Dornish Lords when she finished reading the letters...it wasn't her, however, who broke the silence, it was Lord Mortimer Quorgyle, the Lord of House Quorgyle; a Sandy Dornishman who was as probably the tallest and biggest man in Dorne, Strong like an Ox, big enough to swing a great sword with a single hand, with a long thick black beard and a shaved head, thick eyebrows and an upper bite to match his aquiline nose, and he was a man as clever as he was thuggish looking, however he was also a man who's blood boiled quick.

"How DARE them? They think themselves so honorable, so good! But they forget Elia and her children and they thought we would forgive too, they thought that we would let pass an attempt on our Queen and on our Prince's children, I say none of it, I say we march north and turn the snow into water, I say we light a fire that shall be seen from Sunspear to the Lands beyond the wall, Dornishmen! Let's show these bloody northerners who we are, Princess, I say we go to war, and mark on their foreheads the names of Oberyn, of Elia and her children".

Lord Harmen Uller followed, he was usually a reserved man, too quiet and cold to be Dornish, less yet an Uller, but behind his calm demeanor he hid a demon, he had a thick white beard and shoulder length hair, and yet despite his age he was strong and muscular, a man to be feared not only among the Dornish but across the realm, but like Mortimer Quorgyle he was loyal to a fault  "Unbent, Unbowed, Unbroken; We didn't yield to Aegon the Conqueror, he had dragons, we never could have our revenge on the Usurper King, nor could we have on Tywin Lannister, but we might have our sweet revenge across the wolves and their ice castles, Princess, whatever you choose, whatever you decide, I shall follow you like I followed your father, but I agree with Lord Quorgyle, we should go to war and make an example of them." he said in a somber tone.

"My lords, I have called you here..." said Arianne.

"Because they tried to kill my good sister, the queen, I called you all here because my nephews and nieces almost died as well, and they have as much Dornish blood as they have blood of the dragon, my lords, I hear your calls and as Princess of Dorne I shall answer them..."  
"Say the words then..." said Spotted Sylva Santagar, Lady of Spottwood and old childhood friend of Arianne, a freckled woman, with the fair skin of the stony dornishmen, and the brownish hair that repeated through House Santagar's bloodline, a woman, that Arianne knew she could trust, that though extremely cunning and dangerous, she was also loyal.

Drey Dalt, who had accompanied her uncle to Kingslanding too rose up; "Say the words...and House Dalt of Lemonwood shall follow you to the end of the earth if need be..." his black eyes, and yellow turban pulled the attention of everyone in the great hall of Sunspear, it contrasted against the white marble collumns and the gold details of the palace's interior were the rest of the Dornishmen were together.

"My lords, you all knew my father, Prince Doran, he was always a man of caution, a man who would not act until the moment was ripe, a man of great wisdom who at all cost tried to prevent war, for Dorne at least, we all loved him, I too, loved him dearly...but I am not my father, his cold blood does not run in my veins, mine is a warm blood a blood that carries the legacy of the sun, we are the sons and daughters of the sun, and to you I say this..." she said.

Arianne stood up, picked up a short sword that was laying on the table in front of her and raised it enough that every one of the lords and ladies on that room could see it..."Dornishmen, TO YOUR SPEARS!" the room filled with battle cries of angry Dornishmen, crying for vengeance, and furious, as they should be..

 

"House Blackmont is with you!" said Lady Lara Blackmont, fierce woman and warrior, Arianne saw the Black Vulture in the yellow field,

"House Manwoody remains faithful" yelled Dagos Manwoody, a proud man, with a big head, Arianne saw the crowned skull in the black field.

Soon after joined Houses Santagar lead by her dear friend, Dalt who had followed her uncle to Kingslanding, and so followed Houses Allyrion, Ladybright, Gargalen, Wyl, Vaith, Fowler and Toland; Houses Yronwood, Wells and Dayne too agreed to the call if reluctantly...

"For House Targaryen! For House Martell! FOR DORNE!" yelled Mortimer Quorgyle, who had been the loudest of her supporters, and at last, the most loyal of their supporters, the ones who had followed House Martell since Nymeria arrived, House Uller, there represented by Lord Harmen, who had been Ellaria's father said "To our spears!".

Dorne was going to war, and the northerners should tremble.

 

* * *

 

 

_Dear Yara_

_I chose to give you this letter rather than to tell you in person because, and maybe I am being paranoid, I fear northern spies in my castle._

_I have sent you not only with the mission to rally men and to bring ships, so we might build the mightiest fleet the world has ever seen, but also with another, secret mission..._

_The carrier of this note shall go with you...and once you arrive to the Iron Islands, you will send him with a small ship and a small, discreet crew, either to the wall, to one of the castles manned by the nights watch and not to those manned by Daario or to White Harbor, where he shall act as a spy._

_His mission is to collect all the possible information on the North, on House Stark and most importantly, of an Individual named Brandon Stark, last seen North of the wall about a few months ago._

_I promised Fire and Blood and it is my intention to carry that promise, but I need also to locate him...He is to do nothing but to give me a location and return to Kingslanding._

_Oh, and as soon as you rally your men, you are to return to Kingslanding, as a member of my war council, your advice and strategic mind shall surely be needed._

_I understand that your brother has taken some liking to House Stark, so If you wish to pull out of it I understand, but I do also hope you are as thirsty for blood as you said you were when we met, I killed Euron, so I ask you to help me kill my enemies._

_Yours, truly...Daenerys._

_P.D._

_Memorize this letter and burn it after, leave no trail of it...I want them to suspect nothing yet._

 

* * *

 

 

"Lift the Anchors, if we are not there in a fortnight, I shall rip your tongues and throw it to the sea!" Yelled Yara at her crew, The Blackwind, her ship, had the most loyal and dedicated crew, but regardless, she was Ironborn.

"Aye Captain!" answered Earl, her first mate.

The black sail raised to might and splendor, and the golden kraken there, a figure that she never got tired of watching.  _But it would look better if the Kraken was together with the Red Dragon._

It did not matter, she was a reaver, she was Iron Born...Her way was pillaging, and taking, her way was the iron price.

 

"We sail to Pyke, to rally our men, and if such is the way, we might yet get war"

And her men screamed, that warrior scream that only the Ironborn could scream, a scream of men thirsty for blood.

 

"Hu, Hu, Hu, Hu" they barked as the Ship was sailing from the harbor, for her queen, she would torch the world... And the chants of their men could be heard from every corner of the world

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this, is a long chapter, so long, in fact, that I decided to split in two...But I decided to make something different from the other chapters, I still think the Dornishman's Wife is the best chapter so far...but I'm taking a gamble with this one.
> 
> Oh, a good bunch of the Dornish Characters are book characters, all except Mortimer Quorgyle, and the reason is that in the books the lord of House Quorgyle is called Quentyn...see, they changed Asha's name to Yara because it sounded way too similar to Osha, you know, the cool wildling that's looking out for Rickon.
> 
> And I actually agreed with that change, and for that reason, I won't have two characters named Quentyn, now yes, I know that the unamed Prince of Dorne from the finale isn't tecnically named Quentyn, but we the Dany Stans on A03 have all agreed collectiveley to call him Quentyn...so now Quentyn Quorgyle is Mortimer Quorgyle...and I added a phisical description, because I have a soft spot for Dornish Houses and specially for House Quorgyle (My, roleplay character is a Quorgyle). The scene is ment to paralelo the original "King of The North" scene from season 1, with Robb... So if you will imagine Mortimer Qorgyle as Dornish Greatjon Umber. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.


	12. Call the Banners Pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> The Salt, the briddle, the fire and steel!
> 
> For whe sound the drums of war, oh yes!  
> oh yes! the drums of war!
> 
> Red shall turn the hills! red shall turn the stones  
> and red shall turn their castles.  
> Red shall be their tears and on them It shall be called.
> 
> Upon them oh, I know, Oh I Know.
> 
> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> Make their banners burn, make their banners weep.  
> Make their banners beg, make your banners chant  
> The victory on their feet.  
> Make their horns sound, make your horns sing.  
> Make their horses tremble and their maidens weep.
> 
> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> Call upon your banners, and make their song so sweet  
> The song of war, the song of steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the one commenter I saw in the last chapter; I didn't think I needed to say this,but I'll say it again; this fic is very Anti Stark, very pro Daenerys and very pro Dornish, and it will remain so.
> 
> You had the season finale, congrats on being the only one who liked it...kudos to you man. But I did put several warnings in the tags. To everyone else, sorry a few more slow chapters before we get to the good stuff.

It went as expected... Her uncle's loyalists had died when the Dragon Queen took Kingslanding, so the rest of the Ironborn present agreed, besides... 

The Ironborn never rejected an offer to go to war, it was their lifeblood. 

Yara spend two nights In Pike before sailing back to Kingslanding. 

To Join with the men of the reach, the Dornishmen, and the Queen's own army... In the past the Ironborn and the Dornish had been at odds with each other, and so had they with the Reachmen much less yet with the blood of old Valyria...But somehow this tiny queen had united them all, truly united them, under her banner, along with the horselords... 

"Calm down" said Yara to her trusted axe, "you shall feast soon". 

 

* * *

  _To Lady Stark of Winterfell..._

_I'm afraid your request has been denied. I am sorry that you have been denied the loan, and I am certain that you would have keep your word to us to pay us..._

_Yet we, respectfully, deny your request... We never break a contract, and we never make a contract with anyone we don't intent to keep our word._

_We have no intention of fighting the combined forces of the Dothraki, The Windblown, The Second Sons and the Unsullied, we have no intention of fighting a queen beloved across the bay of dragons and across the free cities... Nor are we mad enough to face three dragons, frankly we are surprised that you would...Even if the Iron Bank had approved your request, our answer would remain no, sorry._

_If you survive your endeavor, we shall have a song written in your honor, but we much doubt such will be the case._

_Good luck in the wars to come._

_Harry Strickland, Lord Commander of the Golden Company._

* * *

 "Do you want to know how I found out? " Asked Jon. 

"No, " answered Sansa. 

"Moletown is full of Wildlings, and according to them you spoke loud enough to be heard at the wall, " said Jon grimly "Edmure hasn't answered to your letters and neither has Robyn, has he? I spoke with the lords this morning, they are all willing and ready to go to war...for us, but no one else...How exactly did you think this was going to work? You honestly thought the Ironborn would support us? After what happened to Theon? Or the Dornish? You forgot that the queen is married to the brother of the Princess of Dorne, didn't you? And who else would have supported us, Tyrion?"

"I get it Jon, I screwed up, I endangered the North I..."

"You don't get it, there might not be a North after this... And we could have made an ally out of her, she isn't Aegon or Tywin, she has the biggest army ever seen in history "

"So what are we going to do?" asked Sansa

Jon finished his casket of wine, and Sansa's cascet of ale... "I will do whatever I can to avoid this disaster and you will do nothing... Except, perhaps, pray, pray that she is not as ruthless as the rumors claim".

* * *

_Dear Lord Edmure of House Tully._

_I'm sure you have smelled, as well as I have, the smell of the upcoming war..._

_I've been sent to negotiate with you, and try to convince you to do the smart thing, I wish only to talk, in the name of her Grace._

_I'm sure we might reach an agreement._

 

_Yours, Ser Damon Sand._

* * *

Edmure's beard had grown since his imprissionment in the dungeons of the twins, wich now looked too much like Harrenhall...he had, however, refused to shave it ever since.

The Dornishman sitting across him, with the smug expression had too, recently allowed his beard to grow, as of now he only had a shadow, but ever slowly the shadow had turned blacker and blacker, Edmure had never talked to a Dornishman before, less yet a bastard one.

The Dornishmen had not held that much power in the kingdoms ever before, but as of now, they were the Queen's men, and as such, they enjoyed a level of influence that in the past had been reserved only for houses in the reach or the west...However this man was just a knight, and a bastard at that. 

"More bread, Ser?" Edmure asked, the Dornishman sitting across him noded, his servant filled the knight's flagon and gave him another bowl of bread. 

"I know why you are here Ser... "

"Yes, I believe I was rather explicit in my intentions when I wrote the letter... " answered Daemon before Edmure could finish his sentence. 

"She is my niece... " he said, unsure. 

"And he is the Queen's nephew, but that didn't deterr them...did it? Her Grace rescued you from this dungeon, when your niece did not... The war might have been between House Lannister and House Stark... But your lands suffered the most, didn't they?" Edmure couldn't really argue with the Dornishman... He was right. Most castles were on ruins, including Riverrun, the lands torched and the smallfolk had suffered most of all; in life, neither his sisters nor his uncle or his lord father had really cared about the smallfolk... And it seemed like neither did his niece, but he was now the Lord of the Riverrun and his people were suffering. 

"I am not asking you to call your banners and march for the queen against your niece and her brother, I'm only asking you to remain out of this conflict, haven't you suffered enough on their account? Haven't your people? Wouldn't you rather stay out of it? Raise your son? Help your people?" asked the Dornishman. 

Yes, Sansa was his niece, but blood hadn't matter to her before, and he had to think about his people.  

"Very well Ser... Let's talk about peace". 

* * *

_To King Consort Quentyn of House Targaryen._

_How has life treated you? I miss you dearly brother... I heard about the attack on my good sister and my nephews and niece, I wish only to know how you fare._

_I am coming to visit soon, I wish it were under different circumstances; as a sister visiting her brother and good-sister, as an aunt visiting the spawns of her brother, to be a bad influence on the little ones. I bring, however, our people for war... You should have seen them, brother... Dorne claims blood. But Lord Dalt and Gargalen come with me; you have much to catch on... I hope, in the future, to visit as family in times of peace; as now I must visit as a vassal in times of war, but rest assure, I will turn your beloved Sons and Daughter into the demons father and Uncle Oberyn claimed we were as kids._

_With much love, your Sister Arianne..._

_P.D._

_I also regret to tell you that Ser Archibald passed away... I know you were close, I'll tell you about it when we meet face to face._

* * *

"You have to relax a little my love, they will love you"

The Ironborn and the Reachmen had already arrived and she had already received the men Yara and Ser Preston Redwyne had brought; she had seen several banners already; a white codd in a black field,  a red spider on a black field, a white scythe on a black field, a white tower on a brown field,  a finger with lightning on a black field, a white sun in a red field and many many more besides the golden kraken in the black field and the golden rose in the green field accompanied by the grapes in a blue field...but the pierced sun of House Martell wasn't just the sigil of any vassal sworn to her, it was the sigil of her new family. Which she had only met briefly before marrying Quentyn... She could remember still (thought the memory was fading), how she was received in Winterfell, she had hoped then to befriend Jon's sisters and they had shown her nothing but coldness... And the men behind all those banners, had all cheered and chantted her name but they were not her family. 

"Arianne will love you, she knows how much I do, and she liked you well enough when you two met the first time"... 

"She wasn't my goodsister then"

 _Winterfell is your, your grace_ resonated in her head, filling her with rage at the northeners and dread at her new good-sister's arrival.

She then felt her husband's beard kissing her neck, she loved that feel. 

"She loves me, and she knows I love you... You will be fine, my love, moon of my life... " he said repeating the words she had told him about Drogo. 

The horns and trumpets finally sounded, and as instructed, Dany saw from the balcony how the doors open, and from afar she saw the pierced sun in the orange field. 

Quentyn then got dressed in his black coat and put over his head the crown... 

"Thank you, Quentyn"

"Don't thank me... " he said... "The Dornish always fight for our own, and you... Are one of us now, now come and meet my family... "

* * *

Arianne came through the city riding a black horse, a black stallion named Venom, followed by her loyal Dornishmen, meeting in the city with banners from the Iron Islands and the reach.

Dorne had always had an antagonistic relationship with the reach and the iron islands...And with House Targaryen. But at that moment she was meeting them as allies...even some houses from the Westerlands were represented there, there was a mosaic of banners and colors, of men in armors...

From the rowdy men of the Iron Islands, to the shining knights of the reach, from the precise unsullied to the wild Dothraki...

And the three headed dragon flew high amongst them.

Arianne had been the last one to arrive, but the one with the biggest ovation, cheers and horns and trumpets sounded as her galloping horse ran among the city, she wondered if her uncle had such ovation when he arrived to Kingslanding...

In front of the red keep's gates, was the Queen herself, she had seen her once before she married her brother; the woman had a very small frame and yet she commanded such a presence.

The Dornishmen behind her also smiled and laughed, she even saw Mortimer Qorgyle raising his fist as people chanted and applauded.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lord Mortimer?" 

"I came here for vengeance, same as you, but I do admit I enjoy the cheers and the chantings! Have you realized we haven't heard a single joke about Dornishmen during the whole trip?"

"I have, my lord"

The tiny queen rode to meet her as well, in her white mare and unmounted immediately, and Arianne unmounted too, followed by Lord Mortimer and Lord Uller who followed behind her; then a dusky woman, Missandei, Arianne guessed, announced the titles of the small queen.

"Good sister" said Daenerys with a huge smile in her face "You are every bit as beautiful as Quentyn said you'd be, and your presence fills us all with joy..."

Arianne knew the formalities but chose instead to hug the queen, both with smile and laughter, she was her family after all, had she not been, Arianne wouldn't have ridden north to Kingslanding. "Dorne supports and follows you, your grace, my dear sister, and you shall not lack support from me or any man or woman born in Dorne, I bring gifts too, for you and for my nephews and my niece, whom I heard, were born healthy, this are my most trusted men..." she said then pointing with her open palm to Mortimer Qorgyle and Harmen Uller "Lord Uller and Lord Qorgyle are men I would trust with my life, I hope their presence is welcomed in the war council"

"Welcome my lords, I hope you find Kingslanding to your liking..." said the queen in a gracious tone.

"The smell has improved a quite a bit, your grace..." said Harmen Uller

"They are, I have received two men from each of my allied houses; Rodrik Harlaw and Gylbert Farwynd as Yara's chosen and her own presence, Ser Preston Redwyne and Ser Arys Oakheart, Lord Addam Marbrand, Lord Gendry and of course my own commanders Greyworm, Sandor Clegane and my hand Ser Jorah Mormont, I invite you also, I tried to invite my lord Husband, but he let it pass..."

Arianne laughed "My brother is not much of a commander, I'm afraid, he's bookish, he always has been..."

"Perhaps, still a better fighter than I assumed at first too"

"Yes, Uncle Oberyn taught us how to fight, how to defend ourselves if such was needed...but Quentyn did always preferred books"

“Sounds like quite a man, I hope you tell me everything about him during the feast…”

“It shall be so your grace”

Daenerys turned to the Dornishmen “Tonight, we shall celebrate the bonds that bring us together, and tomorrow they shall fear our wrath”

Cheers sounded across this men and women, their soldiers and lords, all chanted her name and the name of the queen, and soon after the cheers and chanted of the Reachmen, the Ironborn, the dothraki and the unsullied joined in the chorus of voices that drowned the usual silence and sound of birds and fishermen in Kingslanding.

They cheered for the perfect union of the dragons and the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long, so it seems like it will be a bit longer than a two part chapter, war is comming, just not as fast as I thought.
> 
> I was also begining to make a drawing of Daenerys and Quentyn together that I wanted to include at the ending of this chapter but I guess it will take a bit longer too.
> 
> In my defense I'm writing five fics, I'm member of a podcast, I'm the admin in a news page, I work, I study animation, I practice a sport and I get very little time...If I'm being honest, I write the drafts of this fic in my cellphone at the subway.
> 
> But I think, this will be a long fic, unlike past fics...I invested 10 years on my life on GoT, this is part of my process and my send off, my goodbye to the show that ended in season 5 (the good part of GoT) and the one I watched because my favorite characters were all there. So it will be a long ass fic.  
> But I'm also trying to work on my other fanfics of which only one is a GoT fic.
> 
> What I'm saying is, stay tuned but have patience. Comment, as much as you can, that encourages me to keep writing, even the D&D bootlicker comments encourage me believe it or not, spite can be truly powerful my lords.
> 
> And in the next chapter we might even get the Dany Quentyn drawing I started for this chapter.


	13. Call the Banners Pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> The Salt, the briddle, the fire and steel!
> 
> For whe sound the drums of war, oh yes!  
> oh yes! the drums of war!
> 
> Red shall turn the hills! red shall turn the stones  
> and red shall turn their castles.  
> Red shall be their tears and on them It shall be called.
> 
> Upon them oh, I know, Oh I Know.
> 
> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> Make their banners burn, make their banners weep.  
> Make their banners beg, make your banners chant  
> The victory on their feet.  
> Make their horns sound, make your horns sing.  
> Make their horses tremble and their maidens weep.
> 
> Call upon them my lords!  
> Call upon them!  
> The knights, the horses and the steel!  
> Call upon them, call upon them!
> 
> Call upon your banners, and make their song so sweet  
> The song of war, the song of steel.

The feast was truly something to behold.

Daenerys laughed and drank with her guests, Lord Qorgyle himself challenged to finish a tankard full of cider... Arianne was embarrassed until she saw as her good sister accepted the challenge...

"You owe me, my lord" Daenerys said to the huge Dornishman who had challenged her, once her tankard was empty again.

This is a feast, a proper feast...

She thought, not the coldness she had received in Winterfell after almost dying and losing Jorah... No, this...

She was never alone, first it was Lord Mortimer Qorgyle and her husband's family, then Jorah, living and breathing Jorah, Yara Greyjoy and her Ironmen also made for great companions... Lastly it was Arianne and her Husband...

"Are you enjoying yourself your grace? "

"Certainly, I never thought feasts could be this great! "

"What kind of feasts have you attended your grace? "

She did not want to answer.

"Princess Arianne, you may call me Daenerys, we are sisters after all... "

"Daenerys... Well then, just Arianne will do fine"

The rest of the night everyone was dancing and talking... And Dany could not remember a better feast.

* * *

 

_Daario_

 

_I hope this letter finds you well, it does comes with orders I am afraid._

_I need you to light the tower, it's almost time._

_Collect your men and await for further instructions._

 

_Bring torches._

 

_Love; Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen_

* * *

 

_House Blackwood answered to your call..._

The Vale had also declared for them, both by Yohn Rhoyce who was the ruler of the vale in all but name, and by Sweetrobin, who had more affection for Sansa than her uncle did... Still, it wasn't enough, and Lord Rhoyce's cousin, Nestor Rhoyce had declared for the Dragon Queen. Sansa knew from her time I'm the Vale that Nestor's house wasn't big, but the man did not lack ambition.

Half of the Wildlings had declared for Jon but the other half, the ones that went South refused to do so, that very morning Jon had also gotten a letter from his old lads at the night's watch... They said no... They wouldn't help.

Lord Tarly had not yet answered the letter, which Sansa was sure, that would have a good result for them since it mentioned that they'd back Jon, since Samwell was a friend of Jon's and the Silver Bitch had killed Cersei... She hadn't even touched her breakfast at all thinking about this, she almost regretted sending the assassin after the Dragon Queen.

Suddenly the huge doors opened large and open, Jon was there, in armor, followed by Ser Davos and twelve other men.

"My lady" said Davos bowing.

"What is the meaning of this?" Asked Sansa.

The men said nothing as they all marched towards her, two of them grabbed her hands and pulled them behind her back, also pushing her plate forward so hard it fell of the table and broke, her rashers of bacon, bread, hard boiled eggs and meat pie fell all over the floor, and it made an awful sound as Jon stepped on them with his boots when he walked towards her. Everyone but Davos looked at her with a cold expression.

"I'm sorry, sweet sister, but you have forced my hand... " he said to her getting as close to her as he could.

"Jon... " she muttered, begging almost...

"Search for the nicest of the dungeons... " he said to the men "Accommodate her there, she is to remain there until I say otherwise".

"And clean this up before Lord Blackwood and the Lords of the Vale arrive" he said as the men and Davos nodded.

"Jon, I'm your sister, your last family... Jon! "

"And I am the King" he said as the guards dragged her to the dungeons of Winterfell.

* * *

 

_To Ser Davos Seaworth, hand of King Jon Stark._

 

_I am glad you sent me this letter, I appreciate everything you did for me and words cannot explain how much I owe you, and it pains me to say this... But I'll side with the Dragon Queen in this war to come._

_I am, truly sorry._

_She knew who my father was, and she chose not to kill me, instead she made me Lord of Storm's End, she gave me a position in the small council, she helps the smallfolk, beggars and foreigners alike... People like you and I._

_She avenged my father too in a way, when she took off Cersei._

_I have nothing but love for you; but I don't know your king or his sister Lady Sansa...And I owe my loyalty and allegiance to Queen Daenerys._

 

_I hope you understand._

 

 _Gendry Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and Warden of the Stormlands_.

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure?" Asked Missandei, almost unable to believe the answer...

"Yes, it is a good opportunity... " Greyworm answered, his arms were thick and she enjoyed seeing him bare chested.

Neither of them had any experience with the concept of marriage, that seemed like something purely Westerosi, but Lady Olenna had already introduced her to Ser Preston who had come to the war council with the Tyrell army... He seemed decent enough, a bit naive, he just wasn't...

They began talking in Valyrian...

"Look... " he said, articulating in a way he was unable in the toungue of the sunset kingdoms, "I can be with you, you take the position Khaleesi offers you, I remain here, you give him a child and our lives get fixed... We stay together... "

"I think you know what that implies Torgho Nudo, the costume between the people of this land... "

"I do, and I would love the child as if it were my own, we could have comfortable lives, here, or elsewhere, whatever you choose, I'll stand by you"

Missandei thought about it, for one part, the white beaches, the blue water... But for the other... She did have some ambition, and she would raise high in these sunset kingdoms if she stayed.

 

"I'll tell Ser Preston the good news"

* * *

 

_To Lady Lyanna Mormont_

 

_You know where your allegiances lie, and I know where mine does._

_My position has not changed. Here I stand._

_It is unfortunate, I think, after all her grace did offer you shelter and lands to wait for the long night; I hope your ride back north was a pleasant one, though in my opinion you should have remained South to wait for the long night... It doesn't matter._

_I am truly sorry to disappoint you and father one last time. And if it is any consolation I do hope you and I don't meet on the battlefield._

_As for answering the call, I already have._

 

_I serve only one Queen, that who's name is Daenerys Targaryen._

 

_With love, your Cousin..._

 

_Ser Jorah Mormont; Hand of The Queen._

* * *

 

Quentyn decided not to attend the war meeting.

Instead he remained in the nursery room with his children... His Children... His rhoynish blood ran through their veins as much as their mother's Valyrian blood did, they were as much descendants of Queen Nymeria as they were of Aegon the Conqueror...

"Brother... " he heard a voice through the room, it was his sister...

"Sister... " he said when he saw Arianne, she was wearing her orange silks...

"How did it happen? " he asked

"Who... Archibald... " she realized. Both their father and uncle had not liked the Yronwoods very much, centuries of bad blood amongst them, but Archibald had been like a brother to him.

"He had a stroke, he was found dead along with a recruiter from the Nightswatch called Daeron in a Brothel in Braavos... I am truly sorry, Quentyn"

"Do not be, it is not your fault Ari... " he said with sadness in his voice.

"In a fortnight we march north, I know you dislike violence Quentyn, but will you come with us? I will understand if you choose to stay and look after your children and your wife's kingdom"

Quentyn gently put little Willem back in his cradle, and he turned to his sister with fury in his eyes, he had turned out more like their father than she had, but still he had part of Oberyn's rage and passion beneath his sweet voice.

"They tried to kill my wife and my children, the prick was even singing 'the Dornishman's Wife' when he died, as mocking us, his blade tasted her after all... I don't care how much they detest the Lannisters, I don't care how much they suffered... I will not rest until they beg me for mercy, until they cry tears of blood, nobody harms my family, highborn or lowborn, and lives... I will make Daenerys's vengeance look like mercy by the time I'm done with them... So yes, Arianne, I will march north too... "

Arianne stared at him, she could count the times she had seen in him such passion, such rage in her hand... She noted his clenched fists on the border of his son's cradle, it was a wonder none of the babes started crying.

"You must really love her"

"I do, more than anything or anyone salve our children... "

Arianne smiled, she was happy for her brother.

"Introduce me to your children 'your grace'" she said in a joking voice, and Quentyn did just that... He introduced his sister to his children.

* * *

 

_To Jon Stark, King of The North_

 

_I am afraid I cannot do that._

_Samwell Tarly remains a sworn brother of the Nightswatch, I cannot and will not release him of his vows._

_He shall remain in the citadel to continue his training as Maester, as it is my command, and he is then to return here, to serve his bows until he dies, as we do._

_"It shall not end until my death" remember? Because I do remember, Lord Snow..._

 

_And I will not spare a single man as I am in dire need of those._

_Good Luck In the wars to come._

 

 _Your friend... Eddison Tollet, Lord Commander of the Nightswatch_.

* * *

 

Dany waited patiently in the outskirts, mounted on a horse, and old palfrey... Not her warhorse, for she was not going to go on horseback... Next to her, was her good sister, Princess Arianne was next to her, she too had been ask not to come riding in Viper, her gorgeous Dornish Sand Steed, instead she was riding a rather tiny malnourished horse.

"Sister, May I ask what are we waiting for?"

"We are meeting my children"

"I already met your children, Daenerys, Quentyn introduced me to them, gorgeous but... "

Dany shook her head.

"Not those children... " Arianne's face shifted, but it became then clear as day, the Queen did mention they would strike the Vale of Arryn first, as they had declared for House Stark... And even if they hadn't... It would be foolish not to use them... Still, the sound of that scared her.

"Dany I... " a deafening roar rumbled through the air, interrupting her... Followed by other two roars, similar to those, it echoed through everywhere in that plain.

A massive creature landed in front of them, Arianne was startled, if she was to be honest, by the massive winged beast, but the tiny queen looked at them like they were suckling babes, with the widest smile on her face.

"Drogon! " she said with glee, and the beast turned almost into a puppy just for her, Arianne was so surprised by the massive winged beast that she did not noticed the other two that landed just behind it.

"...Why... Why have you brought me here your grace? "

"To meet my children... "

"Why!? " asked Arianne dumbfounded.

"Because... " said her good sister cryptically

"the Dragon must have three heads"...

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I was on the beach... I am still on the beach... Next chapter comes with picture.


	14. The Silence Before the Stormborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fool's blood...  
> King's blood...
> 
> Blood on a maiden's thight.
> 
> The scream of the knights, the scream of the knights, aye aye.
> 
> Of Falcons and Irons, of Vipers and Bears  
> Dragons and Gargoyles Circle the sky.
> 
> Of fury and dread, of fury and dread...
> 
> The skies call for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's anti stark, pro dany and pro dorne...

She took a deep breath.  
  
She had insisted earlier not to fly on dragonback long distances, choosing instead to go on horseback.  
  
Something about this felt... Right... Like in old times even... No Tyrion, No Varys, No Jon, No Sansa... She was marching with an army on a horse, with Missandei, Greyworm and Ser Jorah... Only Barristan was missing there, had he not, her original team would have been complete, and thought she did miss Ser Barristan deeply, she had new companions that she could trust; Quentyn was a generous lover and a good husband, a demon with the spear though a man with the soul of a poet, Her good sister, Arianne Martell, proved to be the sister the gods put on her path, she was graceful and kind, cunning but honest at least to her, she was every bit the good sister she never got from Sansa Stark, while Lady Yara, rough, but smart, loyal to a fault was everything Dany had hoped for Arya Stark in her previous life... And Sandor... He could never replace Ser Willem or Ser Barristan; they would forever be the fathers she never had, but Sandor Clegane was also a good mentor, and a times, much to his displeasure, even a good friend.  
  
She was there marching to take a city impossible to take, like when she was to Mereen...  
  
It felt natural to her, her rage and desire for revenge remained there, but there was a certain joy she got from doing what she was best at, from being a conqueror, a tactician, surrounded by her people... Her own, people.  
  
"You seem happy, your grace" She heard the Hound mutter...    
  
"Well, Sandor Clegane... This is what I'm good at, fighting, ruling... Those things require practice that I do not yet have and talent that I'm not certain I will ever have but conquering and liberating... Taking cities, making plans, I might not be Stannis Baratheon or Tywin Lannister or Aegon The Conqueror... But I do have some prowess to my name, that is what I am truly good at,"  
  
The Hound gave her a faint smile... "You are a better fighter than you give yourself the praise for, your grace... As for a ruler I do not know enough about that shite to trully tell... "  
  
He turned to see behind them, and Dany did the same, they saw endless men on armor, and endless banners... The largest army in history.  
  
"But the fact that they are here, might mean that you might be better in that way than you might think".

* * *

 

Yohn Rhoyce could see the endless men from the balcony.  
  
He had written to Sansa Stark endlessly since he had returned from Winterfell but still he got no response, which terrified them... From what he had heard, even without the enormous beasts who at times blocked his view of the sun even as far away as they were; the young queen was the greatest battle commander in the east; and with Stannis Baratheon, Robb Stark and Tywin Lannister dead and Randyl Tarly nowhere to be seen or heard, she might have been the greatest commander in the west too.  
  
Though he was uncertain if he was as afraid of her as he was of the people surrounding her... The Ironborn had never been a good sign, they were crazed and ferocious... The exception there being Rodrik Harlaw, but the man was also clever and played the long turn... Lord Mortimer Qorgyle might have been an Ironborn or a Dothraki for that matter, Yhon still remembered fighting his father, Ser Sandor Qorgyle on battle and for what he heard, his son was worse... And Harmen Uller... The thought alone terrified him... Lord Uller was a soft spoken old man, but every woman and child knew of what horrors laid in Hellholt, the Ullers were the Boltons of the south.  
  
"A thousand men could march here and a thousand men would die" he repeated to himself under his breath, but those were a lot more than a thousand, it was the largest army in history, among it's ranks were the cruelest and most clever men and they fell behind an angry mother and her almost dead children... Yhon only could hope the gods would be merciful.  
  
"Sire?" asked one of his knights...  
  
"Have the reinforcements from the north arrived? "  
  
"They have"  
  
"Good, get ready for battle, shall the Eyrie fall you shall take Robert to the Saltpans and from there to Braavos..."  
  
"Yes sire....oh, there is a girl on our gates, she says she needs to get in..."  
  
"We cannot accept refugees at the moment!" Said Yohn Rhoyce almost in rage...  
  
"She says it's important, she came with a Braavosi coin and she says she is an envoy of King Jon..."  
  
King Jon...the thought almost repulsed Yohn Rhoyce, he didn't do this for him, he did this for Sansa, but nevertheless, he had sworn fealty to him...  
  
"Our girl?" He asked...  
  
"Nay, sire..."  
  
"Very well, let her in...but hurry ... and sharpen your sword" said Yohn Rhoyce...all they could do was wait.

 

* * *

 

"You can still go back!" He told the old knight...  
  
Jorah felt offended, he was the hand and his queen was going to battle, his place was at her side...  
  
"I am not yet that old, your grace, I have slain pit fighters, dothraki Kos, Qartheen warlocks, knights, Ironborn raiders..."  
  
"I understand..." said Quentyn while he was feeding the fire... he was surprisingly good at it, far more than Ser Jorah imagined a Dornishman would be, or a king for that matter and he used nothing but a rusty knife and a stone "But you are Hand of the Queen now, and in her absence it falls to you to oversee the matters of the kingdom...the King eats..."  
  
"I am familiar..." said Jorah, irritated...why was everyone so keen to send him away? Jorah felt some offence to that, no one had questioned Ser Barristan's skill with the sword when he was alive, and he was not that old...  
  
"You are the king, why don't you go back?" Jorah asked defensively, Quentyn was still busy with the fire.  
  
"I am the king Consort...My duty is not to rule, I would be terrible at it and I do not desire it...my duty is to look pretty and let the queen fuck me ruthless from time to time, I sing...I'd like to think I am a good singer, but I know not if I am, I play the lute, I look after the little dragons when I'm present...and I charm the Lords, with my beauty and grace; eventually I get to talk about my adventures in the east and my passion for horses...every now and then, my duty is to grab my spear and run through some knights...but ruling? commanding? No, those are the duties of my wife...and yours, if you have that thing on your chest..." Said the King, his voice was smooth and velvety, and his accent was smooth yet strong, the King reminded Jorah a lot of his late uncle, The Red Viper...Jorah had only seen him once, and briefly, but he understood why so many threw themselves at him...  
  
Though he also had a quiet thoughtfulness that the Red Viper never had.  
  
"The Hand's duty is also to help the Queen in battle, to give my advise, which I have done since before you met her..."  
  
Quentyn laid down in the grass, he put the trout over the fire to slowly cook it, and finally staring back at Jorah while his food cooked, the fire and the moon illuminated his face, his beard, and his thick muscles, as well as the King's armor which was sparced behind him except from his helm, it was steel but it looked bronze colored; it was a greathelm that looked like the sun...that he had placed in front of him...  
  
"Yes, I was told as much...look, I am not your enemy...they are; none of them inherited Ned Stark's famous honor or sense of duty, we both would do anything for our queen...right?"  
  
"Right..."  
  
"Then trust me, and if you cannot trust me, trust her..." he said.  
  
"Very well, your grace, still I am not going back"  
  
"Fine by me, Lord Hand..."  
  
They both laid on the grass, allowing the fire to gently kiss their skin, while they waited for the morning...

* * *

 That night on her tent Daenerys was almost about to fall asleep on her brand new armor inside her tent, for she did not want to loose any time arming herself... until a young knight came running towards her. 

"Your grace" he said after bowing quickly... 

"Yes?" she asked

"There is a man here who seeks an audience with you, he says you know him... " Dany wondered who could that possibly be, right of course until he heard the young knight say "he says his name is Illyrio"... Dany's face shifted into a face of shock...

"Send him in... "

"There is no need, your grace, I am here already" she recognized the man his black hair and split beard that ended in two tiny braids... He had gone fatter since the last time she had seen him and his hair had turned a little grayer... But that was the same man, a relic of when she had been wandering, begging and alone, and afraid... So afraid. 

Had he come earlier, she would have welcomed him with open arms, however her previous life had taught her to be less naive and trusting, and in a way... Illyrio could be too much like Tyrion, Varys and Jon... She however, did not wish to reveal that just yet... 

"Magister!" she called with pretended warmth in her voice... "I am certainly glad but surprised to see you",  Sandor was sitting on a wooden chair, watching the whole affair with one hand on the hilt of his sword... 

"Certainly a battlefield would have been the last place I would have expected to find you, my dearest friend"

"Oh, I might surprise you... In my youth I was a sellsword a decent one or at least decent enough to reach old age thought I admit, your grace, I did loose my edge, quite a while ago"

"I do not mean it in that way, my old friend, but I am quite shocked to see or hear from you... " she said... 

"Oh, I came on this land as soon as I heard about your victory, I wanted to celebrate and to congratulate you...but I think I misscalculated my departure"

"You missunderstand me, my dear friend...Had you arrived earlier, in Kingslanding, I would have recieved you with open arms, I would have given you plenty of gifts to show you my gratitude, I would have thrown a tourney in your honor...I would have offered you a possition on my small council, since it is not yet complete...but I am afraid I can do none of those things right now as I am organizing a campaign..."

"Oh, I know your grace...I just came to reconnect with a friend of mine...I have to say, you have grown since you were fostered at my manse...I have also come up to keep up...I think I owe you two wedding gifts and one for your coronation..."

He clapped his hands, and two servants came in with a huge golden coffer that was laid down before her, and as they opened it they showed her that inside it had silks, spices a book and...

"A glass candle, your grace, perhaps to sit on your desk on on your table...perhaps you shall make better use of it... for your wedding to Hizdhar..." she nooded and two dothraki took the coffer and left the tent, to storage her first gift somewhere safe...then Illyrio clapped a second time and as the previous servants left, a tall summer Islander with a shaved head and a stuffed beard came in with a hard leather glove and a huge black eagle with red eyes, the man made a quick bow that somehow managed to leave the bird undisturbed...after he placed it on a chair and despite not being chained the bird didn't move.

"Crows cannot be trusted, your grace, this bird will answer to you and to you only, and you will not risk it being attacked by another bird and loosing the message, it makes a fine hunting bird too...I know your husband likes horses and hawks...this is for your engagement to Prince Quentyn Martell" he said...he then clapped a third time, the summer islander bowed, and left...then entered a balding man with blue eyes, a thick black beard, and a bulpous nose, he too had thick leather gloves...he made a quick reverence and then gave her something covered in silks, he threw the silk to reveal it was a sword...the pommel was made out silver, it was shaped like a dragon's head and it's eyes were two shiny rubies, the guard looked like it ended in two flames on each side wich were made out of gold, the scabbard was of black leather with drawings of dragons made out of silver and gold... _it can't be_ Dany thought...when she pulled the scabbard from the guard to see the blade...it was Valyrian steel...

"Blackfyre, your grace..." said Illyrio, the Hound kept staring without saying a word... "You haad made a new one?" No doubt that was valyrian steel, but it could not possibly be the sword that she thought it was...

"It's the old one, your grace, the ancestral sword of your house...my gift for your coronation..." Dany remained suspicious, but she was also astonished and at a loss for words...

"Thank you, Magister Illyrio..." she was certain he wanted something, but what she could not understand...and he had made her wonderfull gifts.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when i began writing this I had an idea where I was going with this, but there is a totally different plan now...
> 
> First off...this motherfucker will have arcs...two...Some characters that I wasn't originally going to add will appear...
> 
> Third, I still haven't forgiven the show Starks for season 8...it will manifest...be prepared...
> 
> Four, I might include some characters from the book and alter them significantly...  
> And last but not least, a good chunk is slow build up...sorry...
> 
> Oh...thank you for reading please leave a comment or so.


	15. Your king is trapped.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poor old man came riding by
> 
> And we say so, and we hope so  
> A poor old man came riding by
> 
> Oh, poor old horse.
> 
> Says I, "Old man, your horse will die."  
> Says I, "Old man, your horse will die."
> 
>  
> 
> And if he dies we'll tan his skin
> 
> And if he don't we'll ride him again.

"Are you certain?" she asked her royal husband.

"I will not leave you alone with the people we are at war with. When I said that I wouldn't abandon you I ment every word of it..." said her dornish king, his words usually filled her with confidence...but she wished to protect him too.

Her Sun was not a politician or a tactician, he was honest to a fault...He knew how treacherous people could be, but he didn't know quite like she did.

"Lord Rhoyce wasn't the one who sent the assassin, that was House Stark..."

"But still, we are at war with Houses Arryn and Rhoyce too, aren't we?"

"Yes..." she answered

"Then I'm coming with you..." he said...Between the two of them it was usually her the one who commanded, she was after all, the queen, but Daenerys had also noticed that when Quentyn had an idea, he held down to it and never let it go.

"Quentyn, my sun and stars, Jorah is coming with me, as is Sandor, so are Aggo and Jhoqo, and Lord Rhoyce is not the sort of man who would attack during a parlay, plus your sister is also coming with me"  
"Dany, my maid of summer, we don't know that...I know that your companions are all capable fighters, even your lord hand, and I know you yourself are getting better at the art of the sword, but I'd feel much better if you'd allow me to come with you" he said...

She gave him a smile, she loved him, she knew he loved her...she couldn't tell him "no".

 

* * *

 

Tytos arrived with the reinforcements, from the horizon, he could see the hills covered in men some from far away lands, that had come to join the dragon queen and her army…His horse was exhausted and almost about to die but they had made it, he and his men…he was there to make some balance…he reached the camp of the Arryn and Rhoyce men…following a passage beneath the breach to meet with Bronze Yohn’s men.

“Halt!” yelled a guard, “Who fares there?” he asked

“Reinforcements from King Jon and Lady Sansa as was promised, I am in command, behind me stand twenty thousand men, will you let me through ser?”

“And who speaks for your men? Who are you”

“Tywin fucking Lannister; who do you think, Ser? I’m lord Tytos Blackwood…Lord Rhoyce is expecting me; now will you let me in or will I have to beat your arse bloody?”

The soldier examined a couple of papers and decided Tytos was right after all…the men actually under his command were very few…only two thousand of those men where Blackwood men and the rest had been sent by House Stark, House Umber and House Karstark which where represented by two children… And six hundred men that claimed to be from Tyrosh…

“Go through, my lord we have a fresh meal for you and your men as well as fresh horses…” said the soldier.

“It shall be so, my lord”

“Thank you ser” Tytos Blackwood finally said…he had originally declared in favor of House Stark for their respect of the old ways and the old gods, they knew House Stark and they shared a lot in common; but then the promises started to sound right…Tytos Blackwood had been promised the vale if House Stark won this war, wich seemed more probable when it was discussed than in the moment Blackwood was in, when he could see the men covering the hills from that far…however now more than ever, he remained in the battle because earlier he had heard that Jonos Bracken had found out that he was fighting for House Stark, and Bracken in return had decided to look for the Dragon Queen and declare for her as if her army wasn’t big enough.

 _Waste of time_ , Tytos thought…but perhaps so was the spite…and maybe he was going to die of spite.

Whatever that ment…Tytos Blackwood had too many reasons to fight…and he was ready to do so.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lord Rhoyce saw from afar as the Queen, her hand, her husband, her good sister, two screamers and a knight followed his envoy on the route into the castle...

It was costumery, even in times of war... to parlay before certain battles, and if anything the Mad King's daughter was a woman of her world...although bareley a woman at all...Rhoyce saw Daenerys Targaryen clad in her black armor as her horse grew closer and closer to the main gates, and as he calculated, the girl was bareley older than Sansa... She was ten and nine years of age if his calculations where correct, a bit younger than Rhoyce's youngest daughter, but her youthful appearance wasn't nearly as impactful to him as her height was.

He had heard some stories about her from the east, not that he was terribly interested about what happened outside of the vale, the riverlands and the north; much less the rest of Westeros...but he had known of her...of her military conquests, of her taking of Astapor, Mereen and Yunkai, of how she tamed all of the Dothraki under her wing...and from those stories he imagined that she would look taller, that she would have scars, perhaps a second head, maybe she would be paler and have red eyes...that girl however looked nothing like Maelys the Monstrous, like Maegor the Cruel, like Blood Raven Rivers or even like her father...she looked like a younger Rhaella...

The King also resembled the Red Viper in his youth...

The party stopped once the horses where in front of Yohn's faces, and dismounted...The knights and soldiers under him all made a quick courtesy but Bronze Yohn Rhoyce remained on his feet stoic, he was not going to bow to the dragon queen, he had made an oath and he intended to keep it.

"Lord Rhoyce" said the silver queen coldly.

"Your grace..."

"Let it be said that Daenerys Targaryen grants the chance of mercy, I came here for a parlay...I hope that you are willing to partake, my lord, as I am here under the best of my intentions...But I have to warn you though, an attempt on my life has been made already, and I would not like it if such thing repeated while I am in here to parlay with you, my lord" she said coldly...

"No such thing shall be done here by me or any of the men under my command, your grace, you have my word...you are to die in battle by my hand, and I would not act in such dishonorable fashion"

"I'm glad at least one of you would" answered the queen coldly "though I have reasons to suspect that if it comes to battle tomorrow, my victory will be fairly easy...this wouldn't be the first castle I take"

"Come inside, your grace"...

 

* * *

 

“Are you certain father? At your age?” Asked the young Uller…

“I have to die at some point, do I not?” asked Harmen Uller, as he was carefully arranging his armor of bronze steel, it took him longer these days than it did in the past, he looked old…he was indeed an old man.

“Perhaps father, but you are way past the age to die on battle…” said Lucifer Uller, son of Harmen Uller and his squire too.

“And what am I not too old to do?  in what way should I die?”

“In your bed perhaps…you haven’t properly mourned my sister, she died in the siege of Kingslanding…and If I am to be honest, father, I would not like for you to die in a siege too” said Lucifer with a low voice.

“Lucifer, my son, Ellaria died like a true Dornishwoman, and I shall do the same…do not worry about me, if the gods wish me alive I will be alive and if not Hellholt shall fall in good hands, yours…you are then to care for Prince Oberyn’s bastards…specially those he had with your sister…” said old Lord Uller “How do I look?”

He was an old man in an armor, how was he supposed to look? “well father, you look well…”

“Listen son, If I die you know what you need to do, I trust that you will know how to do it…remember, the screams mean nothing, do you understand son?”

Lucifer understood, he wasn’t a green boy though he was young; taking a few captured was going to be really good, but it was also a rite of passage in House Uller…he did not mind…

“No, father, I do not mind”

“Good” he said, suddenly someone opened the door of the tent, it was a young woman in a red dress, interrupting their talk, the woman looked foreign but not dothraki or from the free cities…

“Forgive me, my lords, I am looking for Daenrys Targaryen”

“Forgive us instead…” said Lucifer… “She is rather buissy in parlay” said Lucifer Uller.

“Thank you”

“Forgive me, my lady,  what should I call you? I didn't quite catch your name” Harmen asked her.

“My name is Kinvara…tell her grace someone came to see her” she said.

“Will do” said Harmen, will do.

 

* * *

 

"I wish to avoid bloodshed, my lord...you still have the option to kneel, surrender, and be left on your own...I have no problems with you Lord Rhoyce, I have problems with the treacherous weasels of the north who sent an assassin after me just after I last spoke with Lord Snow" She said as clearly as she possibly could, she had not touched a drop of the wine she had been served in her goblet...She knew about guest right, and if she drank and ate under Lord Rhoyce's roof, it would make her a guest and not an enemy in parlay, Dany truly wanted to avoid bloodshed, but she did not discard the possibility...at the same time she was analyzing the best possible way to take the castle, she even thought about strategies to do it without her dragons but she remembered then that Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion were all much larger than they had been when they took Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen and she now had two riders, her good sister and her royal husband; still, even without her dragons it was not impossible for her to impregnate the impregnable castle.

But she wanted to avoid bloodshed, off course!

"Really? is that all your grace?"

"Is my offer not reasonable, my lord? I know you think me to be like my royal father, but tell me...would my father make this offer? would anyone else?" Jon wouldn't have, and she knew it...she knew Lord Rhoyce was there out of his loyalty to Sansa, and Dany had nothing personal against him, but a less compassionate ruler would have declared it treason and burned down the castle without giving a chance to parlay, at some point a dark thought came through her head...

 

_Isn't this what got you killed and mad in your previous life? compassion to people like Varys and Tyrion, and cruelty to the people? is he not an enemy of yours?_

She dissmissed the thought...if Lord Rhoyce was ment to be her enemy, so be it, but she would give him a chance to surrender and kneel...

 

_Doesn't this seem familiar?_

She thought of Randyll Tarly, who remained alive in this version of events.

 

"How generous, your grace! then your army of savages gets to march north, I assume...I am not the lord of the vale, but I speak for him...Lady Sansa is his cousin, and we swore our allegiance to King Jon not to you..." Dany was beginning to loose her patience, the dragon temper and all...

"My lord..." said Quentyn while Dany was clenching her fists "Do not be stubborn, do you see the army outside from your window? it's not only the queen's men, or the Dornish, or the iron islanders for that matter...with us march the banners of the reach and the crownlands too, even the old banners of King Robert stand behind us...my wife is trying to prevent further tragedy, but I assure you my people are not...be reasonable and don't give us a reason to spill your blood"

"How amusing that a dornishman bastard is urging me to surrender! Are you going to poison me your grace? The Eyrie has stood tall for thousands of years, this is an impregnable castle, a million men could march here and a million men would die before you even reach the half of the path, and when you do, I shall hang your bodies to be displayed in the path and dried in the sun, your grace, yours shall be bathed on molten gold, as it is suited for a king..." said Lord Rhoyce

"Have you consulted this with Lord Arryn? I believe a ride on a dragon might change his mind!" said Arianne, hoping that perhaps there would be a solution that would not imply needless deaths, thought Dany much doubted said offer even if it came from Visenya herself, still Daenerys had fallen silent, breathing slowly and trying her best not to awake the dragon.

"The answer remains no..."

"Do you want war that badly, my lord?" asked Jorah this time "I've been by her side for longer than anyone present, and she is being very generous...her grace does not usually offer such kindness, Harren the Black stood once where you stand, my lord, Harrenhall used to be the impregnable castle...'a million men would have marched there and a million men would have died' and yet Harrenhall remains a blistered ruin to this day, do not make the mistake of thinking this castle cannot be taken..." argued Jorah...

"Ser Jorah Mormont, son of Jeor Mormont, hero of the battle of the trident, present on the sack of Kingslanding, hero of the Greyjoy rebellion, knighted by King Robert himself, when you fought for the enemies of your Queen's father; exiled and disgraced from the North by Eddard Stark himself, now serving the enemy as 'hand of the queen', you are a man without honor and I will be damned if I let myself be lectured by someone like you" he then turned to Dany whose face was red with anger... "My answer remains no 'your grace' I hope to find you in the battlefield tomorrow..."

“Fine, my lord, it is fine, I will waste no more of your time…But I have a promise to make” she said “When the sun sets, your line shall end”

She ment it.

 

* * *

 

"Bad luck again, Lady Missandei!" said Mortimer Qorgyle as he picked the dice from the table... Greyworm was sitting behind her, silently... Missandei knew herself to be quite skillful for a lot of things, she knew how to read, write and speak seventeen languages, she knew how to read a map, how to ride a horse, she knew calligraphy and how to play at least a dozen instruments including the harp...she had no idea, however, how to play dice...fact that was embarrassing, and apparently amusing for the gigantic dornishman in the tent.

"I regret it deeply my lords, in the future I shall put more effort into playing this correctly, but in my defense,  I must admit that nobody has taught me how to play this idiotic game..."

"There's not a how, exactly, it is just luck unlike more noble games such as Cyvasse, is just a fool's luck and it requires no skill; which is perhaps why Lord Qorgyle enjoys it so much, although I do suspect he cheats...It is rather suspicious that he brings his own dice" said Rodrik Harlaw...who was also present in the tent, between her and Mortimer Qorgyle.

"Ah, you call me a cheat and you insult my game, Lord Harlaw, but you enjoy my wine well enough...you are lucky I am so content right now my lord, otherwise I would have to end your life"

"My lords..." said Ser Preston Redwyne "We will have plenty of people to kill tomorrow, on the field of battle, and I do not think Her Grace, Princess Arianne or Lady Greyjoy would like it if their chosen commanders were murdering each other before the battle..." said Preston.

"Ah, indeed, but the queen's men are already doing that..." argued Mortimer Qorgyle.

"I think Ser Preston might be right, my lord, the dothraki too are keeping composure, we can make peace for the night and play a different game or perhaps sleep" said Rodrik Harlaw.

"You might be correct, Harlaw, I do apologize for my behavior in front of you, my lady..." said Mortimer Qorgyle...

"I accept your apology, my lord..." Missandei was still surprised that all these highborn Westerosi where apologizing to her, a former slave from Naath... _My Lady_ still sounded too strange for Missandei's ears, more than that, she was surprised that these lords were trying to impress her…

“I do fancy a decent game of cards myself, have my lords played Hollow Knights before?” asked Ser Preston.

“No” admitted Lord Qorgyle

“A Couple of times, not a lot of people in Pyke play it but I have played with some sailors in Braavos, Tyrosh and Pentos…” said Rodrik Harlaw

“What about you my lady?” he asked Missandei

“I have not played…” she admitted, “but I am willing to learn…”

“Great, Commander Greyworm, does it affect you if we play this game together? Of course, you are always welcomed to join us if such Is your desire” asked Ser Preston to Grey Worm…he shook his head.

Preston Redwyne was soon to be Missandei’s Lord Husband, and he had agreed to allow Missandei to keep Greyworm as a lover, she had however, not told anyone but them, the Queen and the Queen of Thorns about this arrangement…and Greyworm at time suspected he was trying to seduce her…that was also the reason why Lord Qorgyle and Lord Harlaw where there, they too where trying to seduce Missandei…She gave him a reassuring look.

“Missandei of Naath can do as she pleases, I will watch” …Missandei smiled at him discreetly.

“Very well then…you each get a king, a queen, a prince, a knight and four random cards…” Said Preston.

The night turned very interesting at least. 

 

* * *

 

 

"I hope you are right about this, I truly do…because if you are not I just condemned the Eyrie to the fate of Harrenhall”

  
“What are you so afraid of? My lord, I can finish this..." said the young girl. 

"With all due respect, my lady, but you yourself said that you never finished your training... " said Yohn Rhoyce to the young girl who was seated on the tea room's soft chairs…

Lord Rhoyce sat down grabbed a goblet of wine and drank it, it wasn’t usually his custom to drink before battle, but the roar of the queen’s beasts was so loud that it could be heard even from there, he was more nervous and afraid than he wanted to admit, he had gone to thousands of battles and perhaps that was the issue, he was not the strong young man he had been once

“She quoted Aegon the conqueror before she left…”

“Of course she did…” said the girl…

“Let me finish, my lady…she quoted Aegon the conqueror before she left, she promised to make this castle a second Harrenhall ‘When the sun sets, your line shall end’ I have no line of my own to protect my lady, not in this castle, but I am holding it for Lord Arryn…house Arryn’s line is thousands of years old, and it goes well before the conquest of Aegon, and I do not wish for it to end here now”

“You sent Robert Arryn away, didn’t you…do you not trust your habilities as a battle commander? Or mine to do what must be done?”

“Aye, perhaps…but someone tried and failed before…just be careful, my lady”

“I shall be, I shall see you later my lord” she said before leaving the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof this one was a dussie, uh...
> 
> I was going to update sooner but...truthfully, it was my birthday and I decided to go out with some friends...
> 
> and yes, I know, this is a long ass chapter in which nothing truly happens, but good things occur to those who wait.
> 
> Besides, I'm kinda proud of the parlay between Lord Rhoyce and Dany...all in good times, huh?


	16. A Song of Steel and Rubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tall ships and tall kings  
> Three times three,  
> What brought they from the foundered land  
> Over the flowing sea?  
> Seven stars and seven stones  
> And one white tree.
> 
> Tall towers and tall horses.  
> Red with blood, dipping down...  
> One for each kid.  
> And one white tree.
> 
> Tall ships and tall kings  
> Three times three,  
> What brought they from the foundered land  
> Over the flowing sea?  
> Seven stars and seven stones  
> And one white tree.

It was too early...

Archer felt it was too early, he had been there in his post since the dragon queen left her meeting with Lord Rhoyce, pointing to the sky, jumpy and nervous and holding a massive scorpion for a dragon to arrive.

 One of his companions had already shot a bird, mistaking it for a Dragon.

 

 _How do you mistake a Bird for a Dragon?_ Tyler, a green boy without any traces of hair in his face yet, was next to him operating the other scorpion, shaking, crying.

"Will you stop whimpering already!?" Archer demanded angrily, snarling through his teeth, Archer was a seasoned soldier, he had been at the service of a long generation of Arryns before Tyler, the miller's boy, had even been born... He had served Jon Arryn in Robert's Rebellion, he had served him again in the rebellion of the Greyjoy, he had fought in the war of the five kings, he had fought in the battle of the bastards, he was by all accounts...a seasoned soldier; A man of a round face, small ears and an almost flat nose, with a thick pepper and salt beard without mustache, short hair and very thick eyebrows and pox scars that ran across his face, all those features hidden beneath his bronze helm, as was the face of almost every other soldier in that balcony, unlike other veteran soldiers in the fortress, Archer did not like to pretend he was a minor noble or a knight, he was just a soldier, born of a tavern wench and a wheat farmer; awaiting for a dragon to appear, so he could kill it and Yohn Rhoyce could take the credit.

 

'Archer: Dragon slayer' didn't have near as much a good sound as 'Bronze Yohn Rhoyce; The Dragon slayer'.

He was waiting, for any moment now in which the massive beast that was set to rival Balerion the Black Dread to appear in the skies covering the sun, like a little blanket...at any moment now...One of the soldiers was beginning to fall asleep, and thus he lowered the scorpion to point down rather than up. As soon as Archer saw this he ran towards the soldier falling asleep on his post and smacked him loud enough to be heard from miles, it did not help that the natural echo of the Eyrie, more so the open space behind them and the large columns behind that lead then to the open door to enter the castle, created enough echo to make the flapping of a bird's wings be heard two stories above and below.

"Gods be merciful to you! Are you out of your mind? Do you know what we are about to face!? three dragons, and you are sleeping on your post!" He yelled, for good measure, Archer slapped the soldier again, harder, hard enough to leave a bright red mark of his heavy hand across the soldier's face.

 

He then turned to the soldiers.

"Listen up! for the first time in almost four thousand years, the Eyrie is about to be attacked, for the first time in almost four thousand years someone has the strength and might to break in...here comes Aegon the Conqueror, reborn again and angry...weather or not you survive this depend on you, do not lower your guard, do not lower the scorpions and..." he continued saying as he approached the soldier marked with his hand "Do...not...fall...asleep"...

 

"Men of this post, there is a dragon coming for us, but we are the men of the vale, we fear nothing..." he heard the loud "Ayes" and "Yes" of the soldiers, excited to hear their captains voice, Lord Rhoyce might have not be present at the moment, but he didn't need too...at this moment, Archer was the hero, the leader of these men.

"We are going to slay a dragon! And they will sing to us! praise us! WE ARE THE MEN OF THE VALE AND WE..." a tremor interrupted his speech, he returned to the edge of the balcony leaning on the rail of it, he saw no indications of the famed beast...of none of them...it was strange, there had never been tremors in the Vale, had there? perhaps he misremembered...and it wasn't a big tremor.

 

"Remain in your posts, do not move!" he said just in time for a second tremor, much stronger than the previous one, so strong in fact that it had managed to throw a couple of soldiers to the ground, including Archer himself who lost balance and fell, luckily none fell from the balcony...though the armor made it difficult for them to stand up again.

 _Tremors, something is not righ_ t Archer thought, from inside the castle a soldier came running as fast as he possibly could... "Captain! come quick your presence is needed" said the young soldier, running out of breath "As it is up here, at any moment now the witch will show up with her dragons and unless we bring her down she's going to melt the east wing of the castle"

"Captain, you don't understand...the dungeons, she's attacking from the dungeons" then a grim thought came through Archer's mind...Sky cells are the Eyrie's infamous dungeons. They are shelves on the side of the mountain's sheer cliffs, left open to the cold sky, with slightly sloping floors to unnerve the prisoners. It was brilliant to prevent the prisoners from escaping, but it also created a danger in the structure of the castle...now Archer understood...

She didn't mean to make the castle melt...she was meaning to make it crumble and fall...that was almost worse.

 

"Tyler, Moss, Walder, Halftooth, Help me we need to bring these scorpions to the dungeons! MOVE OUT!" he said, the soldiers tried to hurry to do as they were told, pulling the heavy scorpions as much as they could while Archer ran towards the door as quick as he could to reach the stairs as fast as he could...he hoped it was not too late.

 

* * *

 

"They haven't moved yet" said Lord Tytos to Yohn Rhoyce under his breath. "Something about this is wrong" holding tight the bridle of his horse, and uneasy on the saddle, Tytos was beginning to make the horse nervous as well.

"Do you see them?" asked Yohn Rhoyce ignoring most of Tytos concerns...

"The Queen? The Dornishman? The Princess? Nay my lord, I thought by now they would have flown to the towers of the Eyrie but no such attempts have been made, yet they are not here either, it worries me...truth to be told...The scout I send earlier hasn't returned either and it's strange that so far they haven't charged..." Said Tytos...his raspy voice beginning to shake with fear, he did not wanted to admit it to Bronze Yohn Rhoyce...but he was terrified...

"Aye my lord...something is terribly wrong about this" across the field he saw, in front of the Queen's army...a gigantic man mounted on a destrier who was tall even for a horse...behind him stood a flag of three black scorpions on a red field, next to him was a smaller slender man with graying hair, behind him a black banner with a white scythe and on the other side a man with red hair and a red beard in a magnificent golden brigandine and behind him stood a blue banner with red grapes on it...the sight of the last man irritated Bronze Yohn...

"It's funny my lord, for a while I was looking to arrange a marriage between my daughter and Ser Preston Redwyne, I was certain Lord Praxter would have agreed...my daughter is, after all of noble birth and of an ancient and proud house...he said no...repeatedly, and now I've heard that Preston is said to marry a former slave from Naath, not even a maiden at that..."

"I understand your anger, my lord but we are in a battlefield, now it's not the time..." 

"Nonsense, they are standing still, and they haven't attacked the castle, this might be easier than I thought last night"...

The sound of the horn bareley allowed him to finish the sentence...A dothraki on horseback then rode next to Ser Preston Redwyne and lifted his arakh high into the air, Tytos could hear the excited chants of all the dothraki riders behind him...the horses jumping and braying and Tytos Blackwood swallowed a bit making a loud gulp he hoped his men would not be able to hear, Lord Rhoyce certainly did.

A second horn sounded... It was Lord Qorgyle this time, he too lifted his sword high in the air, and  all the dornish men and women, knights and foot soldiers alike, raised their swords into the air, drums began to sound loudly way in the back announcing the ire of the Queens army...Tytos was unsure if he feared the dornish or the dothraki more, for one part, he had heard of the dothraki and all of his life he had believed that it would be impossible for them to even cross the sea, for another he had known, for a long time, that the dornish had wanted war since the death of Elia and her children and this was the moment they wanted, what they had prepared for all their lives to do...they ached for war more than anything else.

A third horn blowed, louder than the previous two...the remaining men also lifted their swords and axes into the air, chanting and screaming of rage and pleasure.

 

And then they began to charge.

 

The Dothraki came towards them on their horses, the sound of their hooves made the earth beneath them tremble and their battle cries could have drowned any other sound in the Vale and the Riverlands too. Lord Rhoyce then lifted his sword, and Tytos did the same.

 _perhaps I made a mistake_...Tytos thought...but his mouth only could utter one word...

 

"CHARGE!" He yelled at the top of his lungs with his sword high in the air, he kicked his black palfrey who stood up, brayed and returned to all fours before beginning to gallop, and behind him he heard the galloping sound of his men on horses and Lord Rhoyce's men who had chosen to charge rather than to remain in the castle to defend it...the more Tytos Blackwood thought about it the more it sounded suspicious...but he dared not to say anything about it...if he were to survive this battle maybe he would ask later, right now...he was busy trying to avoid an arakh that went right to his face when his horse had ran long enough and met in the field of battle.

He heard the clash of steel surrounding him and the screams of dying men and dying horses, that drowned the sound of anything else.

He saw a good chunk of dothraki and vale men but another large chunk of Dothraki screamers, valemen and the dornish where nowhere to be seen…

He could have sworn that men could not disappear in the middle of a battle and somehow, a good chunk of the Queen’s Army had disappeared, which ment nothing good.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the part where the action begins...
> 
> The attack on the Eyrie part is going to be much longer than I first anticipated, in fact, this chapter was going to include six POVs of the battle starting but as it stands this is a pretty long chapter already and the other POVs weren't going to be short.
> 
> I mean to make this battle, and indeed every battle, as detailed as I can...now, I usually tend to write more dialogue than actions so I tend to rectify this in the next...I believe 4 or so, chapters...some of your favorite PoV's will appear soon, mine will... But I intend to marinate the things I foreshadowed (because unlike Dumb and Dumber I know the meaning of the word), lastly...the following chapters will be entireley focused on the battle...so for the moment...No Queen Brexit and no Jon.
> 
> So, bon appetit, I hope you enjoy... And as of now, I will be looking for a beta...Enjoy!


	17. No One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the man who never miss  
> The day you loose y'all throw a hiss  
> Little Miss  
> If you aim at the Queen  
> You best not miss  
> Otherwise you will get the feel
> 
> Of the thunder and glory  
> Of those who insist

Arya tried to sneak past the guards.

There where more than she anticipated, but at least she could locate her tent…it was a large one, of course, made of black, perhaps red velvet and it had a perfect circular shape, outside of the entrance there were two banners, on the left side it was the three headed dragon that Arya remembered from her history lessons with Maester Lewin, a supposed relic of old times and a would be passage of history that had returned from the dead to haunt her family, and to Arya’s surprise, embrace Gendry… on the right side it was the pierced sun on the orange field, it was also a surprise, but Arya could not place her words as the reason why it was present there, she would have thought that maybe House Martell would have not looked kindly at the House that disgraced Princess Elia, but it appeared that she was wrong…On a night as dark as this one it would have been impossible to see the banners or the tents but the glow that emanated from inside illuminates well enough her surrounding area.

Arya waited until it was the shift change of the guards stationed outside her tent, she would have waited until the lights went out but it was apparent that Daenerys Targaryen wasn’t going to sleep that night, so Arya did the second best she could…

First she approached the guards from their backs, she slit the throat of the one on the left and the one in the right she killed by putting the edge of her dagger on the back of his neck.

They both fell to the ground, much less silently than she wanted though…it didn’t matter, she then opened the door of the tent.

 

How did she know?  Arya did wonder, because the queen was already expecting her with five men 

There were present a lot more people than Arya had anticipated at first; the man Arya had speculated was the King was there, holding a heavy halberd of black steel and a spear, he had a beard thick and shoulder length hair and dark eyes that stared at her in an air of contempt, two dothraki kos were also there and they were big and they were holding Arakhs… a northman that Arya had managed to identify as a member of House Mormont, was also present there as was the Queen and… The Hound… 

 

Shite!  

 

They all launched at her as soon as they saw her, Arya jumped at the King and almost got close enough to kill him but Mormont kicked her while she was in the air, she then tried to jump at Mormont's throat when one of the Dothraki threw a whip at her and made it impossible for her to move, and when she approached the Dothraki to kill them it was the Queen herself who knocked her down by hitting her with the pommel of her sword. 

Arya was a much better fighter than all of them, she knew as much, but all of them were bigger and outweighed her in a considerable fashion, they were all fully armored wich Arya was not, they were all armed while Arya herself carried only a dagger as she had hid Needle somewhere else, and they were great fighters themselves; amongst them the worst fighter was the Queen; she was lacking in form, strength, speed and tecnique but even she managed to land at least a couple of hits at Arya… 

Somehow she managed to regain some strength, when the King tried to throw his spear at her face, she dodged and jumped on the Dornishman's weapon from there she jumped towards the Queen, who was holding her sword in an advanced blocking position she remembered from her lessons with Syrio, with her dagger on her left hand ready to stick the pointy end on the Queen's dainty neck but then, in the air, she received a punch that knocked her out of the air and straight into the ground, she landed, rather ungracefully, left of the Queen, between a table with maps and wooden figures that represented the armies, and what she assumed was the Queen's bed… which was in fact a sack made out of furs and leathers… with great pain, Arya used her arms to turn around to lay down in a face up position and with her arms extended, her leg broken and her teeth bleeding… she had failed, they had been expecting her. 

Arya began to laugh, bitterly and madly. 

The Queen maintained a stern look on her face. 

 

"I am quite certain you are wondering how was it that I dodged your attempt"

She knew, that was the only explanation that made sense, Arya had executed perfectly the steps they had told her in the house of Black and White; sneak in, kill the guards before they make a sound, go to the target and kill them discreetly and then leave… yet the Queen and her men had been expecting her… her men… including Sandor… he had betrayed her… Arya then thought she should have killed him when she had the chance. 

"You knew I was coming, but you only alerted a few people, you didn't want to make me suspect, then you set an ambush… using yourself as bait"

"Not bad Lady Stark, not bad... But it hardly answers the question I am certain you must have in your mind, does it? " her men rushed to tie her up from head to toes, a position she had not been in since she has escaped Kingslanding and once she was perfectly tied in the Queen then yelled a command in Dothraki that she repeated in Valyrian; the Dothraki, her husband and Ser Jorah all bowed quietly and left, there only remained the Queen, Arya herself and The Hound who sat in a corner drinking and watching them talk… 

 

Once they were gone, the Queen sat in a simple wooden chair she had brought to her tent... She began to peel an apple with a dagger with an ebony dragon shaped handle and a golden guard... Afterwards she threw the peel of the apple to the air and a black eagle catched the peel mid air and began to eat it before returning to its perch. 

"Nobody ratted on you if that is what you are wondering, nobody here even knew of your plans before today when I told them... "

"Clegane"

"Swore to me after I accepted refugees from the north, he was traveling with the caravan and he swore to protect me, but you had already cut ties with him and he knew nothing either" She should have honored his request that day, she should have killed him... "But it wasn't him... Tell me, my lady... Do you know what a glass candle is? "

"No" answered Arya, she did not care to entertain the Mad Queen's delusions of eloquence and grandeur... "I knew you would attack me because I saw it... plain and simple..."

"You plan to attack the north, don't you?"

"Yes" answered the queen plainly

"Why?"

"The battle songs made me do it" she answered with sarcasm... "In truth because your brother and sister tried to kill me again and I will be damned if I let that go unpunished... " she said with a sudden burst of emotion, the dragon temper... But something about what she said resonated with Arya... The word 'again' popped into her head for some reason "And you, for some time I imagined meeting you, I wanted to be connected to you in some way the family I never had... It took me some time to realize how wrong I was, and to be honest I thought you would be more impressive, I am slightly disappointed... Regardless... You arrived just in time to see... "

"To see what?, to see you kill my family and burn my home? I know what you are! I know a killer when I see one! " Arya spat…

"Oh that is just beautiful, by what right does the wolf judge the dragon? I heard of your adventures in Braavos and The Twins, am I not entitled to revenge as much as you are? It does not matter in any way my lady… you will see… "

And with that, Daenerys left the tent… Arya had failed, and now the Eyrie would become the proof.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... Y'all got me... The assassin girl was Arya... 
> 
> Just a quick reminder that the battle is a bit anachronic... The events are not written as they happen... So take that into consideration. 
> 
> Also I hope you liked this chapter, it has no "cuts" or scene changes as you can see... Originally It included a bit with some of Dany's generals, the men of the vale, Jonos Bracken, Quentyn, Arianne, Sweetrobyn and Yara Greyjoy but I decided to leave that for another chapter, as this one was already too long and it breaked the flow of this POV... 
> 
> Lastly, this is kind of self indulgent... Before season 8 I wanted Arya and Dany to meet and become friends (still my hope for book Arya and book Dany) so I wanted to let out my frustrations at show Arya and her "sHe iS nOt OnE oF Us" and I also realized that there was no scene in season 8 that completes the brechel test so, why not kill two birds with one stone... 
> 
> Oh and yes, I quoted a rapper... 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and for sticking with me.


	18. The Symphony of Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tall ships and tall kings  
> Three times three,  
> What brought they from the foundered land  
> Over the flowing sea?  
> Seven stars and seven stones  
> And one white tree.
> 
> Tall towers and tall horses.  
> Red with blood, dipping down...  
> One for each kid.  
> And one white tree.
> 
> Tall ships and tall kings  
> Three times three,  
> What brought they from the foundered land  
> Over the flowing sea?  
> Seven stars and seven stones  
> And one white tree.

Men were screaming, inside their armors and their horses, such was war...still somehow she felt safe, she felt powerful and great, she felt like a living breathing goddess and she wondered if that was the way her good sister felt all the time…"Dracarys" she muttered softly and Viserion released again a line of fire upon the men lined up in the gorge leading to the Eyrie, unsure if they were retrieving or trying to get to the castle before her good sister could strike it down, though from far she could see a few boulders falling into the valley below the castle...either way, it was exiting in it's own way...

Arianne had not been entirely convinced of the plan when she heard it on the camp the previous night, but when the morning the morning arrived she had reconsidered her plan, and the beast, the friendlier of the Queen's three monsters, had formed a strange connection with her, in moments like this Arianne remembered that she was not only a descendant of the ever brave Dornishmen who bravely resisted the conquerors through sheer strength and stubbornness, but of the very same conquerors they resisted who then went on to conquer the rest of the land of mass.

 

An arrow flew next to her, no doubt with the intention of hitting her, and another one hit the cream dragon, but it made no difference to her or the beast, who was unfaced by the tiny arrow stuck in it's scales which was akin to a toothpick stuck in a warrior's arm...bareley more than a needle.

"A valiant attempt, hero, were you expecting to end here the war? or was it the promise of having your name engraved in legend?" she asked in a sarcastic mocking tone.

 

The soldier did not answer, perhaps he did not hear her; it was no matter to her, she closed in, Viserion understood; he quickly closed his wings just enough that he could land from the sky like a bird of prey, he pushed his head forward, and precipitated towards the line of men faster than any arrow seen by man and when he was close enough a “Dracarys!” was heard from the lungs of a living descendant of Mariah Martell....and a twirl of flame engulfed the young archer, plus two hundred men with scorpions, arrows and a position in the top of the path like canyon that would have been impossible for someone without a dragon to cross, part of her wondered if having three dragons would have made any difference when her aunt Ellaria killed her father, she wondered if it would have made a difference when her beloved uncle, who taught her how to read the stars, how to milk the venom of a serpent and all the stories of dornish greatness had his skull crushed in the defense of the dwarf of Lannister that had been allowed to live for some reason…still, Arianne could not let go of the sensation she had when flying with the massive beast.

Though why keep them separated? Why did her good sister wanted to split as soon as she, Quentyn and Arianne herself were on dragon back? She still wondered.

 

Advancing through the lines of men that Rhoyce and Blackwood had commanded to the place, Arianne Martell did what she was asked to do, hold them with dragon fire, make them too occupied fighting her and the charging forces to pay much attention to the four divisions that were coming to flank them from the rear, forcing Rhoyce and Blackwood to go back to the path so that he could be attacked from inside the castle.

One dragon was needed to make the castle crumble, and another was needed to force the land forces to recede, but the third dragon? Where had her good sister gone?

 

It mattered not; Arianne kept flaming the soldiers that came too close to the edges as had been planned the night before.

And some words resonated inside her head, that she had never before even thought about in her life.

Words that belonged to legend, to history and certainly not to House Martell…those were not her words, but those words resonated still in her head… _Fire and Blood_.

 

And the next file of soldiers burned.

* * *

 

Tytos Blackwood felt trapped.

He had never in his life seen the dothraki fight, perhaps he had underestimated them too much, when he had seen them he feared, but he had assumed they were just savages without proper training or an armor for that matter; but they turned out to be that and more, savages without training or armor but natural horse riders who seemed to live and breathe for war, unafraid of death, and fiercer than any beast Tytos had ever met.

The Dornishmen were worse somehow; Tytos knew that they had been yeaning for war and vengeance for a while.

It was at times like these that he wondered why he had had agreed to join the lord of the vale and the king in the north to fight against the young Targaryen queen.

He wondered what he had to gain from this conflict at all; though his brief thoughts were cut short from an incoming sword that hurled at his direction which he just bareley managed to dodge.

Tytos then got off his horse, trying to get close enough to the few figures he could recognize from afar, he managed to kill a dothraki screamer that came running at him with a blade in each hand, the screamer, lighter and more nimble than his fellow screamers, jumped right at him in an almost feline manner which, Tytos Blackwood managed to cut by sticking a sword in the air that cut right through the dothraki screamer’s belly; he then kicked him out of his blade and tried to continue marching towards his target.

This time it was a young knight charging in horseback at him, who kept screaming and kept an open mouth, luckily for Tytos he also kept an open visor in his helm, reason for which he could drive the blade to the young knight’s face, who died almost immediately but gave enough time for Tytos to quickly redraw his sword and for the horse to continue running; it was only a few meters left, Tytos was after a particular figure…two if he was being frank.

Harmen and Lucifer Uller that proved to be as capable of precise and deadly strikes as any other, it was a surprise to many how capable a fighter Harmen Uller was despite his advanced age; his son, Lucifer, the next Lord of Sandstone was also a surprise, for he was green and still he fought like a veteran of a thousand battles; he wanted to reach them both and end them but truthfully it was difficult as it is…another man came running at him with a large spear, Tytos guessed the man was either a Reachmen, a Stormlanders or a man of the Crownlands; it didn’t matter, he was between him and the Ullers, and just like the previous two he killed him with relative ease, by dodging and then splitting the spearman’s neck; Though his objectives were soon frustrated…

He heard the horns, those seven times dammed horns…

“Oh gods just take me already!” he muttered under his breath.

Suddenly a bunch of the Queen’s soldiers receded, went to the sides, and a thunder of hooves and steel clashing on mud could be heard from the east and the west side of the conflict, Tytos turned then to see his and Lord Rhoyce’s army flanked by both sides, so…maybe that had been where the queen’s army had gone…it was good to know, it was already too late but it was good to know.

From afar Tytos saw at the Ullers, and while Harmen Uller was paying no attention to him, he could see Lucifer Uller quite clearly, and Lucifer was looking back at him, and much to Tytos terror, he could see Lucifer smiling from the distance, defiant as the swarms of people soon surrounded the men of the vale.

He almost preferred the men of the Vale.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? sorry for the delay, I have like a thousand different scuses just know I'm not abandoning this story...aight? cool! See, I'm writing this as I go...so I kinda have to wait until thunder strikes to write...
> 
> just remember to refresh your bookmarks every now and then...hope you like it.


	19. Not a chapter

So, I finally got a Beta... I'm working still on the story but Raesdragonqueen and I are also working on editing the previous chapters first... Likely I won't post any new ones until I finish editing the previous ones... 

For the moment, **Chapter 1: _A Coin For Madness_** is done if y'all want to re-read it, because it now has juicy details it didn't before... 

In fact, I very much recommend you to do so... 

And regarding the future chapters... We are gonna spend a significant amount of time on the war... So buckle up... And no, I haven't been forgot about ~~Dre~~ the side characters... Any character I have included or tagged so far will continue to appear until I change that... 

And remember, this is a self indulgent, salty, wishfulfillment fic, I'm trying to build a good plot but I am also writing eight years of frustration and attachment that got spit on my face. 

Rest assure I am not abandoning this fic, or Return of Dragons until I finish them. What I'll do after I finish either fic... That is a different matter. 

And maybe, Just maybe, I'll add a glossary of the characters at the beginning of the fic...if you want it... 

That's it from me... Hope to see you later. 

 

 

Her Majesty The Bomb aka TargaryenPug

* * *

Update: 

 

Chapter two has also been edited and updated if you'd like to check.

 

Her Majesty The Bomb

* * *

Update:

Chapter 3 has been edited and uploaded. 

Her Majesty The Bomb 

* * *

Updated:

So... I recently watched "The Outlaw King" and it gave me... Ideas... I will also be borrowing from the Accursed Kings... Also, I know I said I wouldn't upload more chapters until I finished editing the old chapters, but I will update new chapters soon even if we haven't finished editing the old chapters, as there are plotpoints I wanna get to. 

So, after I add a new chapter to "The Return of Dragons" and "Catra The Barbarian" (wich will be soon) I'll update to this fic... And then continue editing the old chapters with Raes... 

So... Strap in... It's gonna be a bumpy ride... 

Her Majesty The Bomb

 

P. S. 

Be respectful to the other commenters... 

* * *

Re Edited Chapter 3 again...be sure to give it a read.

 

* * *

 

 **[Chapter 4: The Dragon and The Bear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19025197/chapters/45299857) **is up and running, edited and with brand new added details, a new chapter is in the works and it will come soon, in the meantime I already updated The Return of Dragons in my other pseud and I'm working on a chapter of Catra The Barbarian, it's taking longer than I anticipated however...two reasons...number one, two days ago it was my country's independence day, which means I got super hammered and didn't make any progress in like three days and two...college...that will forever be my more pressing excuse, college.

I have a lot of projects now...not to mention practice for a certain thing I do, practice with the band, D&D (Dungeons and Dragons, in this house we don't mention dumb and dumber's names I ment Dungeons and Dragons)...plain procastination, etc.

Soooooooooo....Once I update the two fics nobody reads anymore (that I keep writing because like this one, they are passion projects) I'll update a new chapter of Vision... And once I'm done editing all the old chapters (wich, please read them once that's out of the way, I think you'll like the changes) I will go on, and several characters will appear that haven't done so like Bran, Bronn, Brienne, Samwell Tarly, Dolorous Edd, Cotter Pike (he never appeared on the show but I love him), Jaime Lannister, Varys, Sigorn Thenn, Alys Karstark, Ethan Glover, Barbrey Dustin (I have something very special in mind for the northerners...muahahahahahahahaha *insert evil laugh*), Quaithe, The two Dothraki bloodriders that were never explicitly killed in the show like Rhakharo was even though he is kind of important in Dance of Dragons, some of Stannis' old retainers, Sarella Sand, Oberyn's youngest daughters, maybe Darkstar Dayne, Strong Belwas and maybe even Victarion Greyjoy...maybe

As Well as the return of Tyrion, Illyrio, Kinvara, Maester Marwyn and others.

But for the moment you will have to wait a little, not lose faith and take my word for it.

 

Read [The Return of Dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12433968/chapters/28298829) a what if Dany had arrived much sooner to Westeros that's a little more based on the books than on the show and that I began writing before Season 7, and/or [Catra The Barbarian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625723/chapters/44166829) which is not an ASOIAF or GoT fic (it's based on the New She Ra on Netflix but it's a little bit more violent than my GoT fics)...if you want...if not...well, there are other fics we could read...

 

That's it for now, I want to thank my wonderful beta raesdragonqueen

 

...thank you.

 

Her Majesty The Bomb

* * *

Update:

Chapter 5 has been edited and uploaded, I made a special effort in that one...it's a good chapter, refined and with brand new details that make the story stick out more.

Now, I'm still working on Catra The Barbarian, so the new chapter of this fic will take a while to come out...but It will...scout's honor.

Meanwhile if you can read "[We Can Find Another Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258746)" By [esm3rald](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esm3rald/pseuds/esm3rald) ...please do so...Some authors are being kind of bullied into removing their fics and they need all the love they can get...so also, mango22 if you can read this...I miss your fics...Baby come back  
Any kind of fool could see  
There was somethin' in everything about you... 

 

In all seriously Mango, if you can and I can convince you, those were great fics and I'll bring a mariachi to your house to convince you to put them again. :) luv you.

Her Majesty The Bomb

* * *

Added Chapter6 


	20. The Black Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I soon got used to this singing, for the sailors never touched a rope without it . . .  
> Some sea captains, before shipping a man, always ask him whether he can sing out at a rope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?
> 
> So, I bring this new chapter, as promised...if you are still interested...
> 
> I'll appreciate the comments you leave me and, well...enjoy.

Archer could see only the melting columns when he reached the lower levels. The sky cells were empty and all he could see was a man atop a dragon staring terrifyingly through the visor of his helm. He kept running down as fast as his armor allowed him to while his men tried their best to go down while dragging the heavy scorpions. Two men were needed to transport each scorpion down and it was a slow process even without going down from the top of the towers of the Eyrie to the dungeons at the very last level. 

 

The columns were giving in and the castle would crumble at any moment. 

 

Never once in his life had Archer thought of the Sky Cells as a weakness, he doubted Lord Arryn would have or the Lord Arryn before him… Perhaps no one from the time in which the castle was erected had ever thought of the Sky Cells as a weakness, and they would pay for that now. 

The last descendant of Aegon the Conqueror and the living blood of Queen Nymeria had joined forces to make this castle fall and it wasn't even their target, it was just a message to the people of the North whose names Archer was cursing at that moment. 

 

"Forward!" he ordered and the men finished moving the scorpions so they could order them on a straight line, though they barely fit inside the dungeons. One by one, the scorpions were stacked and loaded, while the dragon kept making the sky cells an inferno where the heat was barely tolerable. 

"Steady" he ordered, voice shaking. One of the columns was already collapsing, but despite the chaos, his men had managed to dismount the scorpions from the towers, move them down, walk into the sky cells being hotter than they had ever been before, mount them again and load the bolts- and yet the man on the dragon said nothing, and the dragon did not move at all. 

"Fire! " Archer cried out, loud enough that even as the room was melting he could still be heard, and so his men fired in perfect order releasing a swirl of arrows, each as long as an auroch, flying towards the flying monster. 

But the arrows melted in the air and the ones that did make it bounced off the animal like they were toothpicks. 

Not that they could see anyway, for the fire obfuscated most of the action and what it did not still blinded them as they could not stare directly into the flames; but they could hear the terrible sound of the arrows bouncing off and melting. 

 

"You didn’t really think it was going to be that easy, did you?" finally drawled the dragonrider. The accent was thick and there was no mistake, he was Dornish, a Dornishman atop a dragon… it was the King. The creature stopped spitting fire and lifted its massive head, revealing the heavy, welded black iron armor it was wearing, across the chest, back and some of its forehead, stopping the iron arrows from even touching the creature. Archer could hear his men shaking in their thin, rattling armour.

 

"Dracarys! " the Dornishman yelled, and with a horrific roar, the fiery columns that came from the monster's mouth resumed once again. 

 

Archer and his men died quickly, but the rest of the soldiers fell when the castle that had once stood as tall as the clouds looking down beneath it, crumbled and fell…

And it stood as high as honour no more.

* * *

 

 

Yohn Rhoyce had been regarded in his youth as one of the finest warriors of the seven kingdoms, a true master of the sword much like the Blackfish, Ser Barristan Selmy, Arthur Dayne or The Red Viper. 

Bronze Yohn Royce was, however, no longer young. 

Two infantrymen were holding him down with simple halberds, and Bronze Yohn was afraid to admit these two men were keeping him on his toes. From afar he could see Tytos Blackwood fighting with Lucifer Uller and just barely keeping him at bay, but Yohn would not be lasting much longer than Tytos was in this case. He had never seen a dornishman fight; some had a fearsome reputation, sure, but this boy was neither Arthur Dayne nor was he the Red Viper and his sire too, Lord Harmen Uller, was an unremarkable man of which he knew nothing… and yet both Ullers had turned out to be quite skilled warriors. Tytos Blackwood was managing to keep them at bay, but Yohn was beginning to get tired from fighting the men he had been fighting and his opponents were just footsoldiers… 

The blade of one of the halberds came at him diagonally, and Yohn barely managed to dodge it. But he could not manage a counter attack. Perhaps he was just rusty…  He regretted now putting so much faith in the efficiency of a half trained faceless man, the little girl had obviously failed- and yet the black dragon was nowhere to be seen. The creamy golden one was trapped by his men, the green one had been attacking the castle, but the black one was nowhere to be seen. 

A second halberd blade came towards him. This time, Yohn managed to plunge his sword right between the man's helm and his brigandine, right in the neck. He pulled the sword out with a horrible squelching noise and the soldier fell, convulsing, to the ground. 

He almost wished Lord Arryn could be there fighting his own damn battle to keep his own damn title and his own damn castle…

Then he remembered the ships… He cursed himself beneath his helm for having the idea of sending Lord Arryn on a ship to Braavos just before the battle.

He did not have much more time to think.

He killed the first Halberdier by smashing his sword into his opponent's visor and tried to rush towards a horse but then a thunderous sound was heard from far away... The castle. 

 

Yohn Rhoyce turned around just in time to see the towers collapse, followed by the outer walls of the castle crumbling down and then the rest of the castle itself… and as he looked incredulously he watched the Eyrie, which had stood up for hundreds of thousands of years; pristine and beautiful, a true beacon of magnificence... crumble and fall and leave nothing but a ruin. 

 

* * *

 

Yara smiled when she saw the ship through her looking glass. It was a mighty ship even for men of the Vale who were renowned as mounted knights and less famous for their feats on the sea.

Yara then put down the looking glass with one hand and lifted her head to look at the clouds and she saw a black spot dancing through the clouds.  _ She _ was waiting for a signal.

And the signal did not take any time to arrive, three blows from a horn far away and the black spot disappeared from the clouds, leaving Yara a wide grin on her face.

 

The Queen had been adamant before on forbidding the ironborn to practice the old ways, the ways of the reavers, and Yara had sworn on the Kingsmoot that they would not return to them either, but she had to admit to herself, there was something about the old ways that Yara enjoyed more than anything. Her lust, her thirst and her hunger were almost like a primal desire, and when the Queen had authorized the Ironborn to “employ whichever tactics you desire as long as you follow me...” Yara could not be more content, she wanted in secret to thank the Starks and their ambition for causing this much rage in her beloved queen. Perhaps, if things moved as smoothly as she thought they might, she could snatch the Dragon Queen one night from her Dornishman.  _ Too much wishful thinking _ she thought, amused, to herself.

She raised her fist high enough to make it visible to every single member of her crew, and they all grabbed their axes and swords, ready to follow the old way again.

At her signal,  _ The Black Wind _ began to sail at the oak ship with the light blue sails at top speed. It was a while before the ship even detected them; short of ramming the ship,  _ The Black Wind  _ stopped close enough to the deck of the tiny ship to board it.

A few men ran towards her and her men and she shoved her axe into their necks, heads, and shoulders while she dodged the swings of the enemies with the grace of a dancer, her eyes mad with battle lust and her grin wide enough to swallow the world. She had not felt the heat of a battle for a while now. 

She was wearing a brigandine beneath her shirt and had some light armor covered in cloth, but the bluish colors of her clothes soon turned red with the blood of the enemies she had cut through.

She still desired commerce and farming on her island, but she could not deny there was an allure to the old way.

 

Finally the few armored men came from below the deck, screaming and running as fast as they could in their shiny, spotless, pristine armors in which Yara could see her own face. On land warriors such as these could have proven a difficult enemy, but these men were quite obviously not meant to be on the sea.

Yara was ready to slay them too, cut their heads and march below deck to take the prisoner they were there for, but there was no need.

The black spot in the sky reappeared, becoming bigger and bigger as it left the clouds.

 

Yara laughed, but the men on the ship, both hers and the ones she was about to kill dropped down in terror.

 

As the shape grew closer, Yara saw, quite clearly a dragon, and not any dragon but Drogon, who dropped from the sky and hung near the ship without ever touching the water. From one of the beast’s extended wings came down the Queen, in  beautiful black full plate armor, with a belt attached to her hip and a sword with a silver grip hanging from her hip.

The tiny queen looked like a titan emerging from the clouds, without her knights, without her bloodriders and without her Hound; only her, and the ethereal aura that surrounded her.

 

“Stand down!” she ordered as she boarded the ship with no difficulty, and all the elegance of the last dragon.

“What shall we do about the knights?” asked Yara. “Kill them” was the response she got. As Yara did so, she saw the queen descent below the deck, only to come back up to the deck followed by a young man with sharp, thin features, clothed in blue and white garments.

 

“Have you ever flown, my lord?” she asked the young lordling that returned, reluctantly following her. Yara saw as Daenerys helped the young lord climb atop Drogon and when she climbed herself, Yara remembered her history. Well...how...Visenya, of her.

Drogon returned to the air, turning back into a small spot in the clouds again, and Yara grinned with a mouth turned red with blood, most from their enemies but some for a tooth she had broken during the fight. She then proceeded to empty the ship, before the young lord could return.

 

With the sea as a witness, the old ways returned to them again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is actually chapter 19, when Rhae and I are done editing the old chapters I will move the text of this chapter to chapter 19...
> 
> I want to try to update more regularly, so I will try to do so...
> 
> Also, remember that I tagged Morally Gray Daenerys here.
> 
> Like pretty much anyone, Dany has some very unpleasant members on her army (Like Robb, cough, cough) so, does that mean Dany herself is bad? No...Also I wanted to shine out a character that hasn't gotten a PoV so far.  
> Yara is that character, this will expand to several characters with PoVs and some of them haven't appeared yet, be patient.


	21. The Dragon and the Weasel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half a pound of tuppenny rice  
> Half a pound of treacle  
> That's the way the money goes  
> Pop goes the weasel  
> Every night, when I go out  
> The weasel's on the table  
> Take a stick and knock it off  
> Pop goes the weasel

Dany stared into the dagger with temptation, it was different from the one that had been shoved into her in her previous life, the one that made her the scar on her chest…It called to her for vengeance, even her own death at the hands of betrayal she could forgive _once_ , but not twice.

She was a Targaryen after all; not a little girl, not the fisherman’s daughter, not a horse lord and not the savior of the north and she could deny it no longer… She was fire and blood… and this time they had come for her children as well... ** _Her. Children_**.

The dagger was different, that had been simple iron, the way of the Starks...backstabbing disguised in honor and simplicity, she would not use such a simple thing to carry her  vengeance as it was beneath her, nor would she disguised her ire with affection, and if he came back she would kill him again, forever if it were necessary, the end of House Stark would not dagger had a silver handle, it was probably Valyrian steel and she had taken it from Jon’s own sister before her men had ambushed her.

“My love” she heard faintly before dwelling too much into her darkest thoughts, she raised her eyesight away from the blade of the dagger and managed to see the velvet of the war camp she was in before turning to see her loving husband, it was true that when she had married Quentyn she had done so for political reasons and spite, but she had grown to love the man that had loved her before they had even met, it made her remember that she was loved, that someone dared to love a dragon, even if it was just her dornish toad...

 

“Quentyn!” 

 

“They are waiting for you my love” he entered the camp, and softly put his tender arms around the shoulder plates of her armor and kissed her forehead. 

“They will hate me forever…” she said almost sadly, almost bitterly.

“Some will, some won’t, most will remember you gave them an opportunity to kneel and that you gave the Arryn boy mercy.” he said after releasing her.

“People grow bitter in exile, I’ve known that for most of my life”  
“Ah perhaps, but he has no dragons, no castle, no khalasar and he does not have the most powerful weapon you have,” he said.

“Which is? -” she asked coyly, almost expecting the answer.

“...A dornish husband” he said slyly… she giggled, but there was some truth in what he said, the support of the dornish had made all the difference...and she had never once felt alone in this new life, that alone...the fact that unlike the northerners, the dornish had embraced her, cheered for her and accepted her as one of their own, that her friends and her chosen family remained alive, that she was not reviled by her allies, that she took Kings Landing with almost no loss, that she did not have to wonder if her allies were truly such...it mattered…

 

She left her tent, in full armor, and behind her walked Quentyn only in his gambeson and brand-new fur cloak. She walked among the files of her men, all in their armors, raising their weapons, their tankards and chanting her victory, the Dothraki chanted for her the loudest competing only with the few Ironborn that had fought on foot and were present there...but the Reachmen and the Dornish did not lack enthusiasm, in fact only her unsullied remained stoic until she reached in her march their files...then they repeatedly hit the ground with the spears as they had done when she took Mereen. She walked along a long line of soldiers, acknowledging as many as she could before she reached the top of the hill, she was growing more and more used to walking in full armor.

 

There were the corpses of Lord Rhoyce and his sons, with their mouths open... of which only one was not slain in battle, they layed besides Lord Arryn, who was almost becoming a man still he looked out of place in a suit of armor…

Daenerys managed to reach him, behind him she could see Arryn flags, as well as Blackwoods, Mallisters and Hardyings...but not Rhoyce of Rune gate…

Robyn Arryn didn’t say anything, he just knelt.

 

Dany waited until his men did the same to begin speaking.

 

“My name is Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, of the blood of old Valyria, true queen of the Iron Throne, and true queen of six kingdoms...I am the mother of dragons and for the ties of blood that you held with House Stark I would have accepted your neutrality on the war, I am not a cruel woman but nor am I forgiving...Since you, Lord Arryn, had the good sense to bend the knee...you shall be spared, but you might no longer hold the title of Lord of The Vale, shall you choose to swear your loyalty I shall offer you a small keep, shall you refuse you will be escorted to the free cities to live the rest of your life… To Lord Rhoyce I offered mercy as well, yet he refused...and now his line has ended. The next Lord of the Vale shall be the one who bends the knee first” she said loud enough to be heard by his defeated soldiers.

 

“I Robert Arryn, accept your mercy, I shall leave the realm and I place the Vale in your hands, your grace” he had clearly rehearsed the lines. Daenerys turned to her own soldiers, who looked impassive, anxious and held silence barely…

 

“Today we feast, today we celebrate...Tomorrow we march to the North!!!” she said, the cheers of her men drowned the lament of Lord Arryn’s…

She did not want to smile, it was unfit for the situation, unfit for a queen and unfit for Azor Ahai if Sandor and the Red Priestess were correct...but she smiled anyways.

She had no desire to turn into the monster who burned down Kingslanding...but perhaps she could relish on turning in the monster who would destroy House Stark...In another life she had nothing but admiration and respect for the last descendants of King Torren...but now, now they would learn the true meaning of fire and blood.

 

* * *

 

“And how are you going to pay for that?” asked the innkeeper to the mysterious cripple that had seemed to have no coin left.

 

The man was evidently quite drunk, although entertaining to some of the customers regardless he was making a mess,  he had already vomited twice in the small wooden tables near the entrance, he had already destroyed a few of the wooden planks that made the floor and destroyed some of the few valuable goods there...

“Will this be enough?” asked the stranger before throwing a smaller bag of coins into the bar, the innkeeper needed not to see them, he knew what it was and it was enough to continue his service to the drunk cripple and his tangled beard.

“We are out of cider” said the innkeeper, tired of his customers but unable to throw him out for it seemed as if he could just shit gold.

 

“If all you have is piss then serve me piss, but do not stop until I pass out”...the innkeeper was almost tempted to oblige, but something about him made him pity, he sighed in resignation and pulled the cheap ale from below the counter, he had indeed run out of cider and mead and even a lot of the ale, he could not blame the poor broken soul for it but he had contributed significantly, either the man was in love or he was mourning.

“It’s getting late, you don’t seem like you can walk for the room it shall be a gold dragon” he told the poor sod.

“A gold dragon?” He pitied the man, but not enough to prevent him from charging him more, he had the coin.

 

“The new ones, I shall not take any coin with the face of Queen Cersei, King Robert or King Aerys…” They had not yet run out of circulation, but it would be soon.

“Long live the queen…” said the cripple laughing quite drunkenly after loudly placing the coins in the table, The Innkeeper could not understand what, if anything, was so funny about that.

“Gods grace her” muttered the innkeeper to the drunk man...half meaning it half trying to humor a patron more than he should, just before he passed away on the floor.

 

* * *

 

The feast went for longer than Daenerys would have wanted, and she became drunker than she desired…

She had been talking for hours with her commanders, yes, they remained at war but they had won a decisive victory, celebrating and hearing the occasional “Do not think this means we are suspending the lessons” from Sandor as discreetly as that man possibly could, and Lord Harmen Uller speaking of the history of history of falconry which is fascinating a subject as it was to him, it bored everyone else more than it could be expressed by polite words.

Next to the bonfire Lord Qorgyle, Ser Preston and Rodrik Harlaw were all improvising to earn Missandei’s favor, she seemed amused but Greyworm was trying desperately to hide his discomfort, she had told none of them that she was planning to accept Ser Preston’s offer, not even Ser Preston himself.

Next to her, her husband was arguing about something with her dearest friend and hand...both passionate about what seemed to be some sort of tale from what Dany could pick up, perhaps something she could read to her children when she returned to the Red Keep...but a thought had been plaguing her mind…

She had barely touched the mutton on her plate, or the cider served on her challyx...Sandor stood behind her impassive.

All around her stood tents and camps and men dancing in the middle of the night celebrating her victory, most of them drunk, a couple of singers playing something she was certain she had never heard before and some people that were not with in her army or those sworn to her but nevertheless were present at the celebrations.

At some point during the meal, a thought came to her...she needed, at some point to speak with Arya Stark, perhaps she could get answers from her; Daenerys kept still the parchment of paper that she had found on her previous would be assassin, and she was certain that she could get some answers from the last one if she went…

 

She excused herself and stood up, quietly leaving the part of the camp on which they were celebrating, Sandor insisted on following her, despite her orders to not do so.

She walked up to the wooden cage in which she held a woman that could have been her good sister once, and much to Daenerys never ending surprise...she growled at her.

“The wolf girl indeed…” she muttered with bitter laughter.

“Let me go you bitch!” The caged girl yelled at her through her teeth, not only was she caged, she was shackled from her feet and hands…

“Do not talk to the Queen that way!” yelled Sandor with more emotion than Dany expected.

“TRAITOR!!” Arya yelled back at the Hound…

“Both of you halt, Lady Stark I came to talk to you in good faith...if I were a crueler woman, I would have executed you after you tried to kill me…” she said.

“I was doing it for the north, you intent to destroy it…” she said defensively

“Yes, and no...I intend to teach the North a lesson, you see my lady; I was willing to let go...you people have wrong me in more ways than one but I was ready to allow you to remain independent but after you came to my castle to demand my troops you tried to have me killed...So yes, I intend to have your House made an example...but remember that I did not start this, Lady Stark…” Daenerys said half growling more than she intended.

 

“Then why am I here? why not have me executed already?” asked Arya.

 

“Because I want you to understand, Lady Stark...I did not start this war, your brother and sister did when they tried to have me and my children, assassinated…”  
“You refused the North help…” answered Arya defensively.

“I did not owe the north help, my loyalty is to my people, Arya of House Stark, to them I owe everything...But I do not owe my men to Winterfell, I do not owe your brother my crown, I do not owe you my life or my armies nor do I owe you my dragons...You demanded, but you offered nothing in return, and you would have taken everything from me without ever expressing gratitude…and so, you tried to have me assassinated...because I would not sacrifice my people for you…” again…she said bitterly.

Sandor remained in the back, obviously conflicted and perhaps angry at both, but silent.

There was a time where she had nothing but admiration for the youngest Stark sister.

 

“And so, my lady...you are here, because I will see that your brother and sister regret what they tried to do to me, you are here...because you and your brothers and your sister just woke the dragon, and you will prevent further stupidity from either of them”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit difficult to write and I'm not yet entireley sure about it, give me time to ajust I'm rusty.
> 
> Regardless, It will go...soon the real fun begins, Dany will keep Arya for reasons unknown, and they will march North.
> 
> She will continue to have dark thoughts but she will also do heroic things because there is such thing as duality, more characters will show up...some mentioned ones will become more important...I will explain why Arianne and Quentyn could ride dragons, wich is not because they are bonded but for some other reason...we will see more of the tripplets and maybe some flashbacks...what did I miss? oh yeah...Watch She Ra and the Princesses of Power :V...
> 
> And I'll post semi regularly...


	22. All The Roads Lead The Same Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair,  
> And gaze upon her smile;  
> Seem as you drank the very air  
> Her breath perfumed the while:
> 
> And wake for her the gifted line,  
> That wild and witching lay,  
> And swear your heart is as a shrine,  
> That only owns her sway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning; Explicit contect in this chapter...Smut...You can skip it if you want just skipp the second section...It's alright.

“You failed us” said one of the voices, it was a deep voice that was detached from any possible body, or at least appeared not to have one.

“You promised the death of R'hllor champion, you promised...we gave you everything you asked for, including the demise of the old man and still, you FAILED!! you had so much promise when we chose you, we should have chosen someone else…” said the voice of a crone that was as disembodied as the deep voice that spoke first.

“I did not fail” said the envoy to the voices, his eyes turned unnatural and milky white, he was standing up, surrounded by snow and weirwood trees; his physical body was not there but his conscience was, and there it was as great and mighty as anyone could be.

 

“She did die, she was killed by Jon Snow, her blood did bathe the stairs and the Valyrian magic was indeed broken, her body taken somewhere else...It wasn’t me, it was the fire god who chose her, he reversed the time, he went to her past to reveal the events that were, I did not fail, you never told me he could do such thing”

  
“HE IS A GOD” thundered one of the voices, different from the previous two, a voice that sounded like a general “Fire is his dominion and she is so, and he remains a god, did you not think that he could do such thing to protect his chosen champion, if he squanders his power just for his servants and priests?”

 

“And you are not? Are you not gods?” the envoy asked and he was met with a mix of laughter and fuming rage from voices that had no face or body, and nothing besides the hollow white trees of which they were coming from…

“Aye, we are a god, a weakened god and thus we chose you, to help us… we hold no longer the might we once did, and though this new power that we had not enjoyed in ages is a great step from where we were, it is nowhere near the might we held ages past...we chose you, because it was our belief that you would return to us this lost greatness, and even though you renewed the strength of the fire god, we shall let bygones be bygones if you tell us you have a plan…” said one of the voices, it also sounded different from the other voices that had spoken, the trees surrounded the envoy in a perfect circle and he knew the voices came from these trees and yet he could never see which tree spoke with which voice, but it didn’t matter, something as wild and incomprehensible as a god should not have a physical form, should it?

 

“Indeed, as we speak she marches to Winterfell, she is to turn the castle into rubble and then return south…”  
  


“That hardly sounds like a good plan…” said the General before being interrupted by the Elder.

“Allow him to continue…”

“The dragons cannot cross the wall, however, I believe this might awaken something sleeping within the Castle...it will create a new gate within the wall that will allow the others to cross pass it…”  
“If the Dragon Queen returns to the north to fight the others we will fail again…” said the Crone this time…

“Indeed, so she will not, for it will not be necessary, the others will not come, they will not appear again until long, and by the time they show, they will no longer be necessary, for you shall have something else…”

“Like what exactly?” asked another voice, that sounded angelic in nature.

“Something that will make them irrelevant, and you shall have control and dominion over every soul from the lands of always winter, to Dorne, from Lannisport to Yi Ti and beyond… And it will be, too late, for R’hollor’s Champion to stop us…”

“I always believed in you!” said the General with overflowing joy…

“This is why we chose you! THIS, is why we rescued you from the grips of the old man and his ways, from the Children of The Forest and his blind loyalty to the broken gods…YOU are a true champion…”  
  


They had indeed other champions before him, Euron Greyjoy apparently had been one of them, the how and why escaped the Envoy to this day, as of why would they choose someone as pathetic as him, but the Night's King had also been their champion, and the Envoy could see, clearly their mistake, for they had sacrificed the Night's King too quickly…the Envoy would make his masters proud, he would accomplish what none of their previous champions could, what he did before...and this time, he would made certain the Champion of Fire would not come back to learn from her mistakes.

 

“Very well then, champion of ours, envoy of the night, we send you back to carry with our divine insight...carry on then...we believe in you…” said the General.

 

“But remember, if you fail, we shall pick a new champion and you shall be given a fate worse than death, and permanent life will become your punishment, go now...return to us the power we seek and once had…” added the Crone.

 

“Very well…” said the envoy, giving a small courtesy by bowing slightly before turning his eyes milky white again and returning to his plane, he was no longer tall and strong, he was bound again to a wheelchair, in front of him the small lake in which his father used to come to pray and clean his sword and behind him the weirwood tree that he remembered.

 

Bran turned to his right to see Hump, his new servant, who had brought him there, he was lifting his shirt to piss on the water of the pond.

 

“Hump, it is a sacred place! STOP DOING THAT” he said at the big servant that had become Hodor’s replacement.

“Sorry, M’lord...won’t happen again” he said while scratching his badly shaved head, he then pulled up his pants and lowered his shirt.

 

Hodor had been endearing and beloved by the family, Hump was an embarrassment and a brute, and Bran could not stand him the way he had standed Hodor all those years.

“Take me home Hump…”

“Yes, M’lord” he said before beginning to push his chair.

Once he could get his plan to work, he would rid of Hump first.

* * *

It was amusing for her how even when they were marching for war, even when the war camps had no beds, when both slept next to piled weapons, they could find in their long marches the time needed to bond with each other, and it was amusing to her that this was the thought she was having while she had her arms around Quentin’s neck and her legs just above his bum, careful to maintain the balance necessary so neither would fell.

The warm light of the fire illuminated their naked bodies with a golden light, shining the features of both lovers, the queen and her gallant toad, as they continued their dance.

Eventually, Quentyn got too tired to remain standing and laid himself on the table that had been designed to make strategy, allowing his queen to remain on top, they knocked, without trying, every piece that had been carefully put above the map in order to make room for their passion, it was amusing to Dany, because she had fucked once before on a war camp, but not made love...and never over the map, it was amusing, because it was slow and romantic and because she had more scars than Quentyn did.

The slow pumps continued, with renewed passion, but it wasn’t him the one pushing, it was her, she was the one pushing herself into Quentyn’s hardened wood, it wasn’t her wet sex battling Quentyn’s stiff one it was rather a gentle touch while also holding his arms against the table and kissing his neck the way she liked to have her own neck kissed.

 

“My love” he kept saying softly, as they both closed to reaching their climax, and at the moment, neither could feel the cold weather of outside…

“The candles…” said Quentyn quietly, while Daenerys continued to push forward…

“The wax...drop some on me”... Dany stopped her pumping, removing herself from Quentyn’s manhood, and getting off the table, it was a strange request, one that he had not made before, and they had been married for almost two years at this point.

 

“Wax!? Why would you want that!?” she asked…

“Is everything alright?” her husband asked, concerned, the mood had been ruined, he stood up and grabbed a bright orange silk robe to cover himself, the one that he had left by the entrance of the tent before they had initiated their dance, he also grabbed a black robe with fur linings he gently put over her shoulders when he approached her.

 

“It is just the thought of it, you have never requested that before…” she said, half apologetically, hot wax, shouldn’t matter like it did but somehow it made her jump from the request…

“I believed it would be fun, are you alright?”

 

“It shouldn’t bother me, but it will burn you Quentyn, wax can leave marks” 

“That is part of the idea…”  
“My brother…” She had never really mentioned her brothers before, nor her family, Quentyn knew she had but only from passing mentions, Viserys had been a name she had often avoided…

“Viserys, he died when my first husband poured molten gold on his head, I know it is not the same but the wax does look awfully similar, especially the wax of our candles… pouring something hot and molten, it’s...” she did not finish her explanation.

It was Golden Wax, the one she used to seal documents and to illuminate the room…

“I thought you hated him…”  
“I do, I did, and he deserved his fate, still I loved him and he was my brother...I know, How can you love and hate someone at the same time? But then again, how can someone be an abuser on one moment and gentle at the next? He told me stories but he threatened to rape me and kill me, both he almost did, and then he came into our tent stinking of wine and cider, pointing his sword at me and threatening to kill me and my babe...” she said, truthfully she hadn’t thought about Viserys in a long time, and he did not deserve her thought, he was pathetic and cruel and still she had tried to save him and love him until he earned his end, Yet...when Quentyn had mentioned the wax she could not do anything other than see his eyes engulfed on the molten gold.

“I know something about that; my cousins and aunt murdered my father and my brother…I love them still, they are my cousins and all I have left of my uncle but I loathe them, for they betrayed my family and murdered their own kin”... He said sadly, and it fell on her the guilt, Ellaria Sand had died before she could face punishment, and she had pardoned the Sand Snakes who were currently living on Essos, where she used to rule in the past.

“I owe you an apology” she said sadly to her king.

“Perhaps, but I meant what I said, unlike my sister I do not desire to see my cousins harmed, I still love them...and you, I do not wish you to spend the entirety of our marriage worring about who hurt who, because if we go far enough we would still have the grudges that Meriah Martell held with Aegon the Conqueror and we are neither of those people…”  
  


Dany wondered what she could have done to deserve such a wise man for a husband and a king, who would follow her to war and love, she turned to see the little that could be seen from the entrance of their tent, and besides other tents she saw trees, and grass and some small patches of snow, that indicated that they were getting close to the North, she was, after all, still at war...which reminded her that she needed to write to Daario, he was needed for the next step of her plan.

“So, as part of your apology...what do you desire?” she asked, with a small hint of tease in her voice.

“To have some wax poured on my chest” answered Quentyn mischievously, and so to break from the war, they retook their dance above the war map.

* * *

“Shame” said one of the guards…

“Such a beauty she had…” he continued “The maid of Winterfell…”

“Still does…” replied the other… “Her dress is dirty and her head is shaven, but a new dress and some time would shine again the great beauty…” he added.

“And a bath…” added the second guard

 

Sansa was growing tired of their conversation, of how they talked about her as if she was not present there, although perhaps part of her wasn’t.

 

“I can clean up nicely, just open the gate, let me out and you shall have my eternal gratitude…” she hated this, she hated having to beg for them, she tried her best and she knew they would not mind her disgust, but she was truly desperate at that point…

“Could ‘ave thought about it before sending an assassin after a pregnant woman and her babe…” said the guard on the left…

“Yeah, I hold no love for the Mad King’s Daughter but that’s kind of fucked” agreed the second guard.

Suddenly they turned stiff and held their helberds in a perfectly straight line, wich made Sansa realize someone had come to visit, someone important at least, she hoped it was her brother until she heard a voice command the guards “At ease” after which they relaxed their posture, it was Ser Davos… She stood up, trying to clean the hay from her dress to appear as presentable as she could be under the circumstances she was in.

Davos stood in front of the guards silently for a few good minutes before commanding “leave us” and the guards obeying, leaving at least Sansa’s sight if not the dungeons…

“Ser Davos…” she tried to be formal, yet she could not forget he was at the core, a commoner.

“My lady…” he said with courtesy and bow…

“Have you come bearing news? Is my brother finally releasing me from this place...Am I to marry?” she expected to be married off to some aging lord as punishment for her transgresion, and perhaps she would be forgiven after…

“Aye I come bearing news, though I fear they are not news you wish to hear…”

Her stomach turned, she gulped and passed saliva down her throat...already things were not good but if Davos’s tone said anything it indicated things to be worse.

 

“Spill them…” she said trying to adopt a different position, the one Cersei always had when she was hearing news or talking to her...she would not appear weak.

 

“The Dragon Queen survived the attempt, I gather that part you knew, she claimed there was a Northern seal attached to the paper...and blames your brother and you for it, well, she’s marching here...to Winterfell, to take the castle and maybe destroy it...Your uncle, Lord Edmure has refused to help us, he wished to remain out of the conflict...claims that the Riverlands have bled enough, Lord Rhoyce declared for you but...he was soundly defeated, he and his sons are dead, the Eyrie lies a ruin and Lord Arryn is no longer the Lord of the Vale…” All bad news, Sansa expected her uncle not to help somehow, and while it was a blow, it wasn’t as big a blow as Yohn Royce’s defeat was, for he had been her greatest ally and supporter since Littlefinger was gone.

 

“Please continue Ser Davos…” she said, knowing that the bad news would not end there.

 

“Your brother will give you up as an offer in an attempt to dissuade her from launching war against the North and turning Winterfell to ashes, he might also ask for Arya in exchange for you…” Sansa could not tell if her clenched fists or her not in her throat were the things that were hurting her the most at the moment...

“The Night's Watch has refused to help us, though it is understandable in their behalf...we can’t hire the Golden Company and she’s marching with a big army…And along her marches Harmen Uller and Mortimer Qorgyle…”

The Dornishmen? what care did she had for two lords of Dorne…

“After what you have told me, Ser, Why should I care for two Dornishmen?”

“Aye, it would seem insignificant, but those two are the most sadistic men in Dorne, I had the displeasure of meeting them when I was on Stannis’s service, during the rebellion...well, Lord Qorgyle is more beast than man, a great warrior with lust for blood; and as for Lord Uller there are rumors that I wish not to think true…”

Still it made no difference to Sansa, the Dragon Queen could probably make those two like tiny little kittens and she had just tried to kill her and failed.

“Why tell me this, Ser Davos…?” was Davos her only friend at the time?

“Because you have a right to know, my lady, and it shall be sooner rather than later, The Dragon Queen is marching here and she’s already just a few miles south of Moat Cailin…” 

 

It was grimm.

 

“Thank you Ser Davos…” she said…

He returned to her and answered “Hair grows back…” before he left and the guards returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Smut into my saltfic? more likeley than you'd think.
> 
> So this one was long, but I owed for being innactive on finals...
> 
> I feel like it's taking shape.
> 
>  
> 
> And now, I am delivering on two tags that I had put, still there is more to come...Just remember to read the tags first.


	23. Visions of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a sign on the wall  
> But she wants to be sure  
> 'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings  
> In a tree by the brook  
> There's a songbird who sings  
> Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving  
> Ooh, it makes me wonder  
> Ooh, it makes me wonder  
> There's a feeling I get  
> When I look to the west  
> And my spirit is crying for leaving  
> In my thoughts I have seen  
> Rings of smoke through the trees  
> And the voices of those who standing looking

There's a kind of hate that can only be born from love, a kind of hate that does not belong to bitter enemies but to the scorned lover, or the betrayed friend. It feeds on the resentment and bitterness, it grows on the rotten bark of what used to be love, because that kind of hate cannot be fed by anything else rather than dead love.

That kind of hate was the kind of hate that Lady Barbrey Dustin felt towards House Stark... But she had practice masking her hatred and disgust hidden to all, she noted the seeds of it on the young lordings Alys Karstark and Ned Umber too, thought they had more fear than anger at the moment, the seeds had not yet grown, not like they had grown in her, but she could see from the corner of her eye, during the last meetings.

"If I'm right, your grace, and I hope I'm not, Daenerys Targaryen will be at the Saltpans in two days, and here in a fortnight, it's probable but unlikely that she will find much resistance in the area south of Winterfell, more unlikely now that she has destroyed the Eyrie, not many are stupid enough to try to fight her now... "

"Can they come here?" asked Jon, he had some experience as a commander, he had fought before, so it surprised Lady Dustin that the King of The North, King Crow as some called him, or King Turncloak as others did but never to his face... Seemed to be wetting himself at the mere idea of meeting the baby sister of Prince Rhaegar in the battle field, a girl of barely twenty; fierce from what Lady Dustin had been told, but not nearly as experienced as the White Wolf, and who had never held a sword herself. But Barbrey knew her only from the rumors and correspondence that they had exchanged in secret, she never knew her in the flesh. If Jon Stark, King of The North was so terrified it either meant that she had a wet blanket for a King, that the daughter of the Mad King truly was a demon and a force to be reckoned with or that he knew something, and for the last two meetings, Barbrey suspected that the White Wolf indeed knew something he did not before...at some point he had talked to his brother, the cripple and if he wasn’t anxious and nervous before, he was certainly after their reunion.

"Aye, some of them can... " said the old hand of Lord Stannis "... Most won't however"...

Lady Dustin remained reclined on the support of the chair in a relaxed position, while everyone that surrounded the large table with carved wolves and faces of kings remained stiff, except for Lady Karstark and Lord Umber, who had more confusion than fear and remained on the corner of the large stone hearth, barely paying more attention to their King as they would their Maesters.

Jon stood up his chair, "put them in the southern front..."

"Your grace, we also have to protect the northern front... " insisted the old hand.

"They are coming from the south... And with the amount of men and worse she comes with, we cannot waste a single foot soldier"... Purely in a tactical sense, Barbrey would have agreed... Their numbers weren't small, but they were much smaller than they had been before the War of The Five Kings, so the smartest thing was indeed to not waste a single man on the northern line.

However Lady Dustin knew something King Crow didn't, she had a secret of her own... While most of the Dragon Queen's men were indeed coming from south of Winterfell, some men were coming from north of Winterfell, from the wall... The surprise infantry Lady Dustin had helped smuggle North; The Second Sons, the Stonecrows, the Windblown and the Stormbreakers, Iron shields and the Maiden's Men; all men the Queen had sent to man the wall but also to act as a reserve, a reserve the King in The North knew nothing about.

“With all due respect for the present company…” Robet Globett started, to which Lady Dustin only rolled her eyes, “It’s a woman with an army of eunuchs and dornishmen, I much doubt there is much that she can do…” Wasn’t this the same Lord who had refused King Crow and Lady Sansa at first? and he was now one of their top supporters and advisors, Robert Globett was perhaps the most loyal man in there aside from the southerner; But he was crude, ungrateful and while willing to admit his mistakes also unwilling to correct them, and more than happy to pretend as if nothing had happened; it was abundantly clear for Lady Dustin that the last remainings of northern honor had died with Robb Stark, and even then the loyalty was demanded and never reciprocated.

“You didn’t see her, you didn't see it my lord...dornishmen and eunuchs are far from it, and she is no frightened little girl, I have never been to the east my lords but whatever she saw there made her stronger… We’ll put every man in the southern front”

“His grace is right…” said finally Barbrey Dustin, careful not to reveal any duplicity...she had been playing this game for a long time, she kept for herself the knowledge she had “She will be attacking from the south, it would be easier to defend there, and if his grace is wise...he’ll try to build a moat” It wouldn’t matter anyways…

“Thank you, Lady Dustin, for your sage advice…”

“It is no problem, your grace, to me it is always an honor to serve the north” she lied.

When the meeting was adjourned she left, quietly dissimulating the smile on her lips but before leaving the room, she noted Alys and Ned standing there, Barbrey knelt so she could look at them in the eyes, shaky at first they became relaxed and confident around her once she gave them a small gift, a wooden rose to Alys and a wooden knight to Ned…

“Can I tell you a secret?...” she asked the young lords, with wide grins on their faces they accepted the Lady of Barrowtown’s invitation, and all...was marching according to plan.

 

* * *

 

Again the steel clashed, it clashed louder and louder each time… there was an erratic clashing of swords, right until the moment that one of them, the larger man, dodged a blow and the sword of the other combatant got stuck in a tree after a bunch of furious swipes...As most practice swords where, that one was lacking a cutting edge but it was also heavier than the sword she had received as a gift by her old friend.

She wasn't using her black armor, just her practice clothing and she remained also at a relative distance from her camp and her army's camp.

“Very good, your grace, but see if next time you can actually hit me instead of the bloody tree” said Sandor barely dissimulating his sarcasm.

Sandor Clegane was evidently quite fearless, otherwise he wouldn’t dare be so bold with Daenerys; He had always been bold, and on normal circumstances she appreciated that of him, but her mood worsened the closest she came to the north.

The spot she had picked, wasn’t entirely at random, on her previous life during their march to Winterfell, she and Jon had stopped there; in part so they could set camp, rest and eat, but in part also to...fool around a little, Jon had kissed her right in the tree where her practice sword was now stuck, gently and lovingly, that was the place when he showed her what northerners did to ladies “down there”, it was the place where he said “I love you”, where he told her that his heart would belong to her forever and the closer they got, the louder the image of the iron dagger in her chest burned into her mind.

"Careful who you talk to… " Dany reminded him, grinding her teeth and growling slightly, while trying to yank the sword out of the tree.

"Aye… " said Sandor

"But you ought to remember something, when I'm wearing that cloak… " he said as he pointed out to a white cloak resting on a rock, along with his shiny new helm shaped like the head of a snarling dog "... I am your servant, here to protect you and you are a queen… but when I am using this sword… " he said as he lifted his practice sword with his right and pointing at it with his left "...I am your teacher, you are my student, and my word becomes law" Sandor's words were harsh, but true.

"You are right… " Dany apologized, she had been irritable with Sandor but also with Quentyn, Jorah, Arianne, Ser Preston… even with Missandei, ever since she was a few days away from Winterfell, none of them deserved it, and Dany's anger and irritation turned into guilt, she was lucky she was far from her men and council at the moment, it was only her and the Hound.

Sandor's expression softened, he tried to be a hard teacher, but even he softened at times "It's important to keep your head clear, your grace… to concentrate and focus on your actions, you have to read your environment and your opponent and you have to know when you can do things, and that becomes near impossible to do if you're blinded by rage… anger is a good fuel, your grace, but it should not go any further than that… " Daenerys knew that Sandor spoke with experience… Daario had killed the mountain to show off, but she knew it was Sandor who desired to kill him before.

He sat on a log and she sat next to him, even sitting down Sandor towered over her, but his warm expression turned him into someone she could talk to.

"I take it you speak from experience… " she said.

"Aye, I do…for long I desired nothing but to see my brother's blood on my sword" he explained.

"What changed?" She asked softly.

"I did… I died, in a burst of flames and in my last moments the irony did not escape me, I saw my life and everything after, I saw you, yer father, yer children, The Starks, The Lannisters… the past, the future; The Lord of Light… spoke to me in my final moments and spoke to me again when I opened my eyes again"

"I am sorry… " she had to stop herself before she called him Ser, it was a force of habit at this point, remembering one's own death was painful enough as Dany clearly knew, but knowing everything that happened after…

"You will have your revenge, your grace, but you must not forget that you have a duty afterwards… to your children, to your kingdom and to our god"

"I will not forget… "

"Good" said her mentor with a warm smile on his charred face "pick up your sword again"... He said.

 

* * *

 

Winter was indeed coming, last time he'd been there the hill, although cold, was still green… but at the moment it was covered in its entirety in snow.

They had always had to wear furs and wool for the weather, but now an additional, heavier layer of fur was necessary to keep somewhat warm.

Jon did more effort climbing there, since now there was almost a foot of snow that made difficult each step.

It was strange to him why Bran wanted to meet there, they lived in the same castle after all.

"You said you needed to talk to me… " said Jon after finally reaching the spot.

"You need to talk to me… " said Bran in his monotone voice, on the hill but just far enough was Hump, Bran's new servant, who was shivering and trying to cover himself with an old goat pelt that used to lie at Bran's bed when he was younger.

"I really don't have time for this, Bran… Queen Daenerys will be at our gates In only a few days now and I need to talk to the lords before she gets here if we are to have any chance… " Jon was dressed in a heavy full plate armor, with a brown fur cloak and a small brooch of a white wolf made out of bone to keep the cloak in his back… the armor itself was lined with fur, it was what he was wearing to war.

"Strange… I haven't been able to see all your lords, I can't see Lady Dustin… "

"GET TO THE POINT" yelled Jon, he hated yelling at Bran, his little brother, who had desired to be an adventurer… Ah, Jon had been stressed and irritable since he heard about the fall of the Eyrie.

"I'm sorry Bran, I really am… We still do not recover from Robb's war and already we have another, and not with the Lannisters but with… " _My aunt_ he almost said "... with the 'Khaleesi of the great grass sea'... 'Aegon the Conqueror with Tits' I heard someone call her… it almost makes me wish the others breached through the wall already and killed us all, we needed her as an ally not as an enemy…and we have just barely rebuilt Winterfell "

It was obvious that Bran only half paid attention to that, but as Bran was… he only half paid attention to anyone anymore, it was as if everyone was beneath him, not even war kept his attention or his siblings, that angered Jon a little bit. The Lannisters were gone and still his family was falling apart.

"I need to show you something… " he said cryptically.

"Is it important? Can it help us win this battle?"

"It will be inconsequential for this battle"

"Then I don't need to see it… "

"You do… " Bran insisted.

Before Jon could protest, Bran's eyes turned white, and in a few moments so were Jon's… as he turned and twisted in the snow a series of flashes passed through his head, he saw his death, he saw his Lord Father in the sept of Baelor, he saw a skinny man with platinum hair yelling at a scared young girl with platinum hair, he saw commander Mormont… and then the flashes stopped, he saw everything after his death in a streamline and his memories came back to him, he could see another life, he saw her "with all due respect, your grace I do not know you… ", "I don't need your permission I am a king", "Together "... The memories were painful, he heard the screeching of dragons, he saw a dagger… his eyes turned grey when he woke, he stopped twisting and drooling but he felt pain in his chest.

He knew now why she hated him so since the moment they met in the Red Keep, why she felt so familiar to him, why she had been so adamant, he knew why he lusted… they had met a while, a lifetime ago… he had loved… gods, he was such a fool.

"Why did you show me this?" Asked Jon with barely concealed rage in his voice, fighting the tears in his eyes.

"You needed to see" was all Bran said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wanted to update before the new year, that wasn't possible because a) I wasn't in the city b) My computer remained in repair and c) Country roads, Take me hooooooooome....by which I mean I had no internet connection.
> 
> This chapter took longer than I expected so please be gentle with me and...Happy new year.
> 
> Oh, and don't be impatient, the battle is coming soon as is Sansa's fate...and then we shall know what happened with the other characters.
> 
> Until then...  
> Fire and Blood.  
> -Her Majesty The Bomb (TargaryenPug)


	24. Dany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was,  
> And I am.  
> So shall I be to the end of time,  
> For I am without end.
> 
> I have cleft the vast spaces of the infinite, and  
> Taken flight in the world of fantasy, and drawn nigh  
> To the circle of light on high.  
> Yet behold me a captive of matter.  
> I have hearkened to the teachings of Confucius,  
> And listened to the wisdom of Brahma, and sat  
> Beside the Buddha beneath the tree of knowledge.  
> Behold me now contending with ignorance and  
> Unbelieving.

The worst part was the boredom, it amazed Sansa how much she could be tensed and bored at the same time, she went in her head over every decision she made, maybe it had been a bad idea to hire an assassin, more so if she could not afford an assassin that could guarantee success, maybe Jon had been right; there weren’t enough men present to antagonize the Dragon Queen, many men had been lost on Robb’s war, many more were lost when they retook Winterfell from the Boltons and their numbers, now extraordinarily low, now faced the largest army ever to be seen.

The waiting, made everything worse, the sound...she had been hearing a sound for the last two days, that almost resembled hooves, and feet, and the possibility remained ever present.

It still sounded more like a myth than fact when anyone mentioned the Dragon Queen’s army, it seemed surreal because every time anyone said something, the army grew...From what she heard it had been big already before they even reached the shores of Dragonstone and now it included The Reach and Dorne who had not lost men on the war of the five kings, The Vale who used to back them but turned because when the Dragon Queen took it some opportunistic Lord launched like a vulture and was rewarded as such, the Crownlands and the Stormlands too; weirdly she had not heard from the Westerlands...which seemed odd, since Maester Wolkan had told Sansa that the Dragon Queen had helped Lord Tyrion to recuperate Casterly Rock...wich made Sansa wonder if there was animosity between the Dragon Queen and Lord Tyrion and if such if he could still harbor some sympathy towards her; and the Riverlands, ruled by her uncle Edmure, had not declared either...which was a bad sign.

She knew she still had some support, Wolkan for example; provided the information she had heard, the one she was analyzing in her head, some of the lords, and…

Davos.

She saw him rushing down with a big set of keys, his boots were muddied as was his cape, he kept his right hand (the one with the missing fingers) on the hilt of a dagger that hang from his belt while he frantically tried to insert keys into the keyhole of Sansa’s cage, turning his head every five seconds to see if he was followed, the hood covered his face, but regardless it was not a perfect costume.

“Ser?”

“We don’t have much time” He said without giving much explanation, not much was needed anyways, if he was down there then he was there to pull her out.

“Time, Ser?” she asked with a pretend sweetness and innocence in her voice.

“They are here! you must go! if the Dragon Queen captures you gods only know what she’ll do to you, I’ve heard rumors and I wish to the seven, truly, that they are false...”

He still could not put the right key, perhaps it was the time.

“Does she not follow the same god Lord Stannis did?”

“Aye, she does, and the rumors are from before she did, That’s why I am trying to release you, she is surrounded by cruel people and if the rumors are true she’s cruel too...”

Cruel...Cruel but loyal, it was the perfect combination, if only she could find someone cruel but loyal to the North, to her.

“I was trying to protect the North, Ser Davos...you understand, right? you have to understand” she sounded desperate, for a brief second her mask cracked...someone needed to believe her, someone needed...if it had been for the north, for her family, for the northerners, for their way of life...then no one could reproach her, right?

“In all honesty, your highness...I do not, His Grace King Stannis used to say ‘Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies’ but even he did not seek to create unnecessary enemies where he could avoid it” the lock continued to be unresponsive, to the point where it frustrated Davos who started to yank the key up and down until it broke, leaving the bit inside the lock.

“DAMN YOU!” he yelled at the lock, Sansa flinched briefly, she had never seen Ser Davos acting anything rather than calm and collected, and he was jumpy, which made her nervous, it reminded her that at any moment the guards could come down, When he bent down to pick up the bow of the Key he heard steps going down the stairs when Sansa’s worst fear began to realize...a couple of guards went down the Stairs, as soon as he could hear anything Davos hid behind a couple of barrels to avoid being seen. She could recognize the guards, Hakon and Derrick.

“Lady Sansa, you are getting out!” said one of the guards.

“Has my brother changed his mind? ”

“Aye, his grace has reconsidered…” said Hackon until he was hit in the ribs by the other guard with his elbow.

“I’m afraid not…” said the second guard while the first was coiling with pain with one hand on the side of the ribs where he had been hit and another holding the spear he had entered the dungeons with.

“They are here already, never seen so many people, they are here to destroy us all…” said the second guard grimly.

“We’ve come to pick you up” he added.

He took out a set of keys but when he tried them on the lock he could not make it turn, he had no idea the lock had a piece of Davo’s keys inside it, but nevertheless he tried to force them.

“Are you sure these are the keys?” asked Hakon no longer recoiling from pain and standing up

“Aye! I’m certain!”

He tried still… After a couple attempts more they decided it was pointless, so they went back up to look for some help so they could attempt at least to break the cage if they could not open the lock of the door.

As soon as they disappeared Davos came out from behind the barrels.

“Aye, let me try before they come back…” Both knew there wasn’t much time

 

* * *

Jon sat waiting.

Jon couldn’t know if it was the animal smelling his fear, or smelling the dragons from far away or if he was pulling the bridle too hard, but the chestnut garron he had taken as a mount and as a warhorse was getting jumpy, he began to bray an awful lot and scratching the snow with it’s right hoof, it kept it’s ears flattened and lowered and it kept biting the bridle creating a lot of foam, it acted like a filly that had been placed next to a bear, but it was a warhorse that had seemed already some battles...were her children near by?

Jon was also nervous, he kept his free hand on the hilt of his sword, while he watched, one by one, the oceans of men and banners show up on the top of the hill, it was endless.

The banners and the horses became an ocean, so many men; and every second he could hear more hooves stomping the ground, he could see more banners of more places than he could count and more noise. Jon had to wonder why they spent so many men taking Winterfell, and marching south before that, It was times like this where he regretted ever leaving the Night's Watch, everything was so simple then, even the betrayals...but truth be told he had wondered if any of that had even been worth it.

Or perhaps it was the memories.

More than anything he wondered why Bran had showed him any of that, if not to make him suffer.

Just like his brothers he had been forced in his infancy to hear Maester Lewin’s lessons, he learned the basic facts of the human body, about the stars, about history and about politics, same as his brothers had, and he had to admit he had paid less attention to which banner belongs to which house and which plants grew in which region and more about the history of the kings and conquerors whose descendants he had grown to love and he was now going to meet in battle...still, he recognized a great bunch of the banners that showed in the horizon, a lot of banners he’d never thought he’d seen in person.

A crowned skull in a black field, a rampant silver sea-horse on a greenish blue field, a white moon behind a black gate in a purple field (the new lords of the Vale, Jon assumed), a red horse in a yellow field, a vulture carrying a baby on it’s talons displayed on a yellow field, a boar in a brown field, three black dogs in a yellow field, a white tower...then there were the really important banners he could recognize; three black scorpions on a red field...House Qorgyle led by Mortimer Qorgyle, A Black Bear rampant in a green field...House Mormont, Northerners and while it was not the entirety of House Mormont as Lyanna was on his side and that banner flew on his side as well, it made a blow to Jon, then Red Grapes in a blue field...House Redwye, Ser Preston Redwyne probably was around and he was to be the Warden of The Reach as soon as Lady Olenna died, Red Flames on a yellow field from House Uller who had a grimm reputation, torturers…

And then the ones that hurt… A Black Stag rampant on a yellow field, Lord Gendry had not gone himself but he had sent his army, Robert had been his father’s friend; a golden rose in a green field, a red sun pierced by a spear on an orange background, Jon had never met any Dornishmen but he had never desired them no ill either and their presence in the place was explained by an obvious factor, just like House Lannister had been when King Robert lived...and of course a banner that seemed endless…

The red three headed dragon in the black field, fierce and imponent a symbol that history would not and could not forget... with a slight modification, as the middle head of the dragon now spotted a crown one of the paws now held a sword; and the message behind it was evident, she was no longer playing around.

_Fire and Blood._

the largest dragon banner was carried just behind the center of the front row, it had been put strategically behind the figure; even this far he could recognize it, even in the black armor, he could recognize her anywhere and at any time...it was her.

 

He kicked the sides of his horse ever slightly and it began to trot towards them; it was tradition to meet the opponents before battle and even with Ramsay he had the courtesy, and so it appeared the same, she rode slowly towards him, followed by five people, he was likewise followed by his top men with the exception of Ser Davos, who Jon prayed would be there soon.

Lord Glover rode behind him, as loud and rude as he was he was one of the few people he could trust entirely now that Sam was stuck in the citadel, Tormund was south and Davos nowhere to be seen, followed closely by Lady Dustin, Lord Manderly and Lady Mormont...Davos was missing from there, the one man he needed the most.

She kicked her horse as well, slightly and gently, but it began to galop towards Jon and his party and her six chosen people also galoped behind her, but none of them rode as gracefully as she did, she almost seemed to have a talent for horses.

After riding a bit, they finally encountered each other, Jon had almost expected the Queen to bring her men bare chested atop of sandsteeds but she had indeed accounted for the climate of the north, almost as if she knew it...And Jon wondered if she remembered as well as he did, he believed that she would not be as mad if she remembered that he had loved her and she had loved him, but he wouldn’t mention it.

The Queen’s men, all in heavy furs finally approached so close that their horses could bump noses, they were in perfect formation in both sides, it could have not been organized better, for the horses were all in a perfectly symmetrical position, that allowed them to see each other’s faces up front.

On the Queen’s right rode King Quentyn, who no longer had the playful look upon his face that he had held the last time he saw him, he seemed to shoot daggers out of his eyes and his golden only seemed to reinforce that, his hands richly decorated with golden rings held tightly to his black stallion’s bridle and his tunic now black and lined with brownish furs resulted his beard which had grown enough that he could now make a small knot in it; she also looked furious, to her left stood another man...Ser Jorah Mormont, in his armor also lined with fur; he had not met him when he rode to Kingslanding but he did remember him from the previous life and in that life his friend Tyrion held the silver hand brooch, not him.

The Hound and a Dothraki man were on the sides, and present in her party were two women, one Jon could recognized, also dressed in heavy furs and looking like a lady, Lady Missandei who was to inherit the reach if rumors were true, and a woman that resembled the King a great deal.

Lady Missandei, without leaving the saddle of her white courser introduced the Queen again “Her Grace, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Six Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons...His Grace King Consort Quentyn, Of House Targaryen, consort to her grace Queen Daenerys; and Ser Jorah Mormont Hand of The Queen, I present also Arianne of House Nymerios Martell; Princess of Dorne, Sandor Clegane Lord Commander of the Queen's Guard, Ko Qhono her grace’s bloodrider and myself, Lady Missandei of Naath, Mistress of Whispers ”

Davos wasn’t there to announce Jon, already a bad start...so it was up to Lady Dustin who got ahead of Lord Glover to do so…

“His Grace, Jon of House Stark, King in the North, Maybe the eight of his name, king of the first men...my companions Lord Robert Glover, Wyman Manderly, Lady Lyanna Mormont head of House Mormont and myself, Lady Barbrey of House Dustin”

 _The titles_ , thought Jon, _are only to intimidate us_. The presentation was a formality, Jon knew who everyone was and he suspected Daenerys did too, he could not be sure, but he though he saw a strange look from Lady Dustin.

“As per custom, two warring parties shall speak before battle; you will find, King Jon, that I like to keep my word…” said Daenerys after the presentations were done.

“Your grace, from a King to a Queen, we need not to do this…” begged Jon.

“I would have love to see this attitude when you arrived to King's Landing…” he could hear the _dearest nephew_ coming from her even when she never uttered the words…

“...And you are correct, I need not to do this but it is my desire, I am the Mad King’s daughter after all...And I want revenge, for myself and for my children, my sons and my daughter...I am here for revenge, _your grace_ … Fire and Blood IS the motto of my house” she said

“It was not on my command, I did not send him…”

“It is hard to believe…” spitted King Quentyn from under his breath “I thought we had a deal, your grace…”, Jon ignored the Dornish King and his words, focusing only in Dany.

“Please, Dany...not for me, my people need not to suffer...your people need not to suffer either, it will pain me but I shall deliver the person responsible…”

“...Wich is not you? Jon”

“Nay, it is not me...It was Sansa…” her expression shifted, perhaps some part of her deep beneath knew that he wasn’t lying, and he did not wish to give up Sansa either but it was her or the North; he could have been happy with this woman and now she wanted him dead…

“The last person to call me ‘Dany’...”

“Was Viserys…” he interrupted…

“Indeed, my brother...after Ser Willem perrished, he was all I had, and I loved him but he could be cruel at times...I wanted to love him deeply...See, the last thing he said was also ‘Dany, Please’ I had at this point saved him more than once, because I loved him and he was my brother and thus I forgave him for things I should not have; but he threatened to kill me and kill my unborn son, he said he was to ‘Cut up my belly and show my barbarian husband what he bought’ something of the sort, so my barbarian husband grabbed him and poured molten gold over his head, and in his last moments he wanted me to save him again ‘Dany, please’ he said...It is hard for me to forgive…”

There was something unspoken there.

“Take Lady Sansa and let us be, or face us on the field…” said Lord Glover, a miss fortune with words…

“Very bold for someone in your position my lord, I for wish nothing to pierce you with my spear..”

“If you can even lift it, King Toad, A real man…”

“ENOUGH” yelled Jon.

“I shall take Lady Sansa as a prisoner, and in exchange I shall give you Lady Arya...so, do you have her?”

They did not, and he realized now...the guards where no where to be seen…Jon did not have to answer, they had lost her…

“Then It shall be war, dear nephew, sleep well…” she said coldly, both parties rode back to their lines and camps...Jon could not believe Sansa was missing, everything was going wrong, the dragons where nowhere to be seen or heard, which Jon took it as a good sign and yet they were outnumbered.

It all depended on the moats and the northern grit now...May the gods help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, I did not expect this chapter to be this long...sorry, it was going to have more sections but already it's the longest chapter of Vision that I have written so far...
> 
> Yay?
> 
> Hurrah for my saltfic, alternate au, plotfic hibrid? my frankenstein monster?
> 
> Also, yes, I know beggars can't be choosers...buuuuuuuut I am now also writing a Pirates of The Caribbean fic called "Dance of the Accursed" https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354303/chapters/53403598  
> I'd love it if you could read it...I'm not abandoning any project I'm multitasking...
> 
> Next the war stuff... If you liked it please leave me a comment even if it's just an emoji.


	25. Vengance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Be so perfidious!--he whom next thyself  
> Of all the world I loved and to him put  
> The manage of my state; as at that time  
> Through all the signories it was the first  
> And Prospero the prime duke, being so reputed  
> In dignity, and for the liberal arts  
> Without a parallel; those being all my study,

Willem stared at the fire in the chimney, it was a great stone chimney, for a brief second filtering the noise and the sound until he returned to the world.

This was a fanciful hall, the smoot-polished black stone walls had been beautifully carved to display beast and the tall walls made a constant reminder to Willem that he was in a palace again, but it wasn’t any palace in Westeros. In many ways, the Sealord’s palace was grander, more luxurious and intricate and it made the Red Keep look like a barbarian’s hut as well as every other castle in Westeros, and yet due to the lack of windows it felt more like a dungeon than it felt like the chambers of a ruler, the torches on the wall did not help at all, if anything they gave the impression that at any moment a great stone gargoyle would jump from any of the walls and drink their blood in their necks…maybe, it was the perfect place for conspiracy; the tables of beautifully crafted bloodwood that could not possibly grow in Braavos, as well as the chairs lined with fur of creatures Willem couldn’t know existed richly decorated, and several paintings, all of them larger than Willem and two other men, that made for portraits of old Sealords with black hair and wolfish grins.

Ser Willem Darry, was suddenly a conspirator...where he had been a simple soldier for most of his life, a knight, a warrior, a protector...He disliked conspirators, and now he was a conspirator himself.

“Ser?” asked the velvety voice of the Prince of Dorne...a handsome man, young energetic and somehow he carried a sorrow that was only common in widows and old men.

“Forgive me, Prince Oberyn...I am an old man and I sometimes get lost in thought”

“You are derivating thought, I know that look…” perhaps from experience, the Prince was too young to have that look in his face and yet he had it at times, but where Ser Willem had sorrow, Prince Oberyn had rage, Willem assumed it was one of the benefits of youth, to have enough energy to desire rage rather than sorrow...the desire and drive that vengeance requires, there was an energy that Prince Oberyn had, and energy was required for anger...still at times, the younger part of his soul, the warrior, claimed for vengeance too.

“My lords, I must beg for your forgiveness, but none of us is here without reason…”

“Aye…” said Willem…

“Vengeance yes, but also politics…” said Oberyn “The Usurper and his dogs, stink the entire kingdom with their presence, if it were for me, I would have declared war some time ago...but Jon Arryn brought my uncle’s bones to my brother and Ned Stark brought a sword and thus he settled for peace, and he’s right to some degree, the Usurper has the Lannister gold and the armies of the north...but you, Ser...you have the rightful king…” argued Oberyn.

“Aye, the Targaryen dynasty, the last two...I swore to protect them and if I can see it, they shall be put in the throne to rule...I see your proposal, your highness...you desire vengeance for your sister and so you shall have but I wonder if that’s all you desire from it…”

“I want vengeance, but my brother...my brother wants to play the game of thrones...he has a talent for it certainly, a talent I hope my niece inherits, more than that...we are family, your wards are blood of my blood, in their veins runs the blood of Queen Nymeria as much as the blood of Aegon the Conqueror’s run in mine...House Targaryen and House Martell, allied we could be undefeated, and the usurper and his stags and wolves and lions would be able to do nothing...I am talking about vengeance, sure, but I talk also about an alliance and a dynasty that could last a thousand years more if united...I am talking about your boy in the throne...next to my niece”...

“Princess Arianne?” asked Willem.

“Yes, A Martell ruling besides a Targaryen as I am certain the gods intend, this arrangement would benefit both houses…”

“Aye, but there is tradition…”

“That would not be broken, we do share blood as I said…” the Prince hid his rage and fury behind a charisma and an easy smile that could charm every man alive and the dead as well, he was smart too and motivated, and for a reason, Ser Willem could imagine him as a king.

“Aye, vengeance...for both, for us...for the rightful king and the dynasty that forged the kingdom in which that swine sits…'' he agreed with the Prince…

“But what are you to win?” he asked his gracious host, the Sealord of Braavos…

“Favors, and an alliance as well, you get to recover your kingdom, and I get to set mine on stone; you have lived in this city for a while now, thanks to my generosity and I consider myself sympathetic to your cause, what I desire is only that after my death Braavos falls not to some empty headed idiot” Willem knew he meant to put his nephew as Sealord, something a Prince of Dorne could probably be useful to achieve.

“It is a reasonable demand” agreed Oberyn.

“Vengeance it is”

* * *

 

Putting on the armor took a long time, or at least more than dressing in the gown that she had been using to attend court since she took KingsLanding.

The Gambeson was relatively easy to put on, she could put that herself on with no problem, she’d acomodate the straps to be in the last possible hole, so the gamberson remained as close as possible to her body, she wanted to leave no space between it and her armor.

The armor was more challenging to put on, the first thing she’d put on were the sabbatons, then the black steel greaves that showed some silver slashes from her battle in the Eyrie, the poleyns and the cuisses she also managed to put on her own, it was once she had to put on the breastplate that made the central part of her armor and the pauldrons that she was beggining to have some issue, she did not reach the straps of her plate when she had it on.

In moments like this one, she half envied the unsullied who used to wear leather curiasses instead of steel or iron, the dothraki who besides some pants would usually wear nothing at all or even her Lord Husband who had the good sence of wearing a brigandine instead, wich still was more complicated than regular clothes, leather armor or nudity, but were over all easier to put on. Dany saw Sandor Clegane entering her tent through the mirror wich she used to put on the armor.

“Your grace” he said after bowing slightly and remaining still “You might need a squire” muttered the Hound.

“I do not think it would be prudent for me at the moment, as I am currently a squire myself and yet no one knows, besides, it’s my own armor, I commissioned it, I should know how to use it…”

“Regardless, your grace, putting on that thing requires help at times...no shame in it…”

Dany struggled with the straps of her armor a bit more before flustering and giving in.

“Will you help me?”

“With pleasure”

She lifted her arms, allowing Sandor to come close and adjust everything her armor needed adjusting with, until she only had to put on her gauntlets and her helm, she stared at him for a while.

“I understand that your history with House Stark is, shall we say it, personal, so I will not ask you to join me in this battle, nor will I command you to hurt the Starks but I must be clear, Sandor, I will...If you wish to retire, now it’s the chance…” The Hound stared at her when she said this, so far he had been...a mentor, a friend...one of the closest she had, as he knew things not even her royal husband knew, things she had not told Jorah or Missandei, her closest friends, of course he knew and she knew, and that made everything different...but among her men none had a connection so deep with House Stark as Sandor Clegane had, and yet he had joined her.

“Arya...she’s been in this bloody camp for long and for more that I’d wish were not the case, I’m still fond of her;  truth be told your grace, yes, I’d rather like to return to the Red Keep before you start spilling blood, no doubt, using the skills I taught you; I am still plagued by memories with...so true, I would prefer not to fight them...but I must yet protect you, the Lord of Light so desires it, so needs it” Their shared god was one of the things she shared with Sandor and nobody else.

“If the Lord of Light so wills it, I shall survive this battle on my own”

“Aye, and yet, I would not be so daft as to not increase the odds, remember they have the Other...so, your grace, you shall not rid of me that easily”

“For me it’s more than what I sometimes dream, or see in the flames and it goes beyond what the Lord of Light intends for me; it is for my past life and It is of all things, personal…”

“Thus why I have to be there” argued the Hound.

Dany grabbed the sword that she had placed above the table, it was now time.

She then left the tent, after meditating a little, so did Sandor, perhaps it was personal for him too.

* * *

 

“Seven hells have no fury…” he had heard his honorable Lord Father say once, but she hadn’t been tricked, he had not left a bastard on her belly nor had he dishonored her with another woman, no, she was not scorned...he had killed her…

In his head he had run several different scenarios, another chance, perhaps a meeting in the forest where she were to show him the scar she now carried in her chest, maybe she’d yell at him and punch her, he would explain himself, he would explain why he had been distant, why he told his sisters...why he shoved a dagger on her chest, and she would yell and hit and turn everything to ash but then she’d calm, she would forgive him.

It was a pretty fantasy, he had already been angry, he had been desperate, he had already been sad and already he had tried to explain...but he was at peace now, he had surrendered to the idea; in his past life he had been convinced to kill her because he thought she was out to destroy them, his home, his family...now...now she really was there to destroy him and there was nothing he could do, but to remain on his horse with his sword held as high as possible and pray, pray to all the gods, that she would not attack from the skies; at least on the land, as dim as it was, he could have the hope to repel her, to block her forces and narrowly win the battle so he could be miserable until next morning, next battle.

“Your Grace?” asked Lord Glover.

“I said no one moves, they have more people than we do, we have a moat and some men, if we go after her, we perish, they will surround us, cut us man by man and easily win with no great effort, here we might have a chance, the moat could act as a barrier and so could our men and we could hold them back even if for a short while…” it had worked before, that was his speciality, he could be a bad ruler and a bad lover, but holding was what he knew how to do; of course, before it was wildlings and now it was an army made of several knights and hordes, but before it was badly equipped brothers of the Night's Watch, now at least he had an army, armed with good castle steel, some horses, a sturdy castle and a moat…

“Your grace, I do not like, one bit, the idea of just waiting until they attack us, we would be no better than lame ducks…” 

“We will not charge, Lord Glover, too many of them and they would dissolve us easily, then our slim chances would become non-existent; no, we’ll wait here until they charge...at least then we could block them for a while” said Jon.

“Sire, we do not have back ups, there is no cavalry and the nights of the vale won’t come, so may I ask, hold them until what?” interfered Lord Manderly, Glover greatly underestimated the Dornish but Lord Manderly was an extremely smart man, 

Lady Dustin, who remained mounted on the other side added…

“Your grace is right, here we could defend the front line…”

“I truly do hate to agree with Lord Glover, but he is correct, my lady, we’re setting ourselves for ambush…” 

“From where? from whom? The Ironborn? forgive me, Lord Manderly, I cannot see the shore from where I stand, do you? we have a few scorpions if the queen decides to attack us from the skies but truly, my lords, there is only one way”.

“Thank you, Lady Dustin…Now it’s not the time” He wasn’t going to do what he did last time, during the battle of the bastards...instead, he would wait like he should have then, for his Aunt’s army to attack, the way logic would indicate.

He pulled his sword, and almost immediately, everyone else, on horseback or not, pulled their weapons as well; he saw a few swords in the hands of the lords that came with him, soldiers with axes, soldiers with maces, and a couple of hammers, a few helberds and several shields with spears, raised and put to block horses.

A sound that came with an ever increasing crechendo reached more and more until Jon could see a few black dots far away...and the echo of hooves clashed.

 _Sorry_ he thought, and raised his sword as high as it could be possibly raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last chapter got me like, 50 comments or so, and yes, half are mine but still, I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> So next chapter... We'll have a battle.


	26. Words are wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And so he spoke, and so he spoke,_   
>  _That lord of Castamere,_   
>  _But now the rains weep o'er his hall,_   
>  _With no one there to hear._   
>  _Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,_   
>  _And not a soul to hear._

“That’s the last of it, sir!” said the boy, he was a member of the company, one of the youngest ones, and as such part of his duty was to help them accomplish certain tasks, like helping the men put on armor, he helped in the kitchen, cleaning the swords, he helped too with the blacksmith and the horses.

He was what the Westerosi would call a “squire”, but he wasn’t Westerosi and neither was Daario or anyone else in the company... thus, he was just a Second Son.

“Excellent!” answered Daario.

In the time he had been in the North, his beard had grown to the middle of his chest as had his hair to his shoulders and rather than shave or cut any, as it was simply too bloody cold in the north, he had dyed his beard and hair blue; wall or not, ice or not, he was Tyroshi and no bloody man or god in the Sunset Kingdoms would take that from him, he had also equipped himself with a metal armor, unlike the one he wore in Essos which was made out of leather, and that armor was lined with fur as was the bright red gambeson underneath; atop his armor he had a yellow tabard which had a broken sword as it’s sigil, the same tobard that each and every member of the second sons wore; Daario knew well that sigils were first and furthermost a westerosi custom, none of them had one before, but neither did they wore metal armor or gambersons before joining their queen in this strange continent, in which they had also seen snow for the first time.

“Captain!” yelled one of his Lieutenants, an old man with mahogany colored skin, snow white hair and a mysterious limp that they all knew as Brown Ben Plumm; he looked even stranger on the heavy leather covered-metal armor and furs and tobard than Daario did, for Ben was quite old.

“We are almost done, we are all armed and ready…”

“Remember then, what we are going south too…” Daario exclaimed, he did all for the love of his Queen, even if she had found herself a fancy new man with a title and lands proper as the men of the Sunset Kingdoms so often desired, a title, wich was of the most utter strangeness for a Tyroshi, still he loved her, still everything was for her, still...he hoped, she would take him as a lover as she had done when she was married to King Hizdhar, he’d happily be his mistress like so many kings in this land and across the narrow sea did...He knew his men had no such hope, they were mercenaries; but it mattered not, they knew what to do.

The young lad brought Daario´s horse, so Daario took his things and climbed atop of it, and then he turned around to see, all his men got atop their horses, all five hundred of them, a good bunch of them on the yellow tabard of the second sons and a good chunk of them in uniforms of other companies, he also knew he’d be joined south with the men the queen had brought there in secret precisely to do what they were about to do but for the meantime he could see just the men he commanded, but all the men he commanded ordered in two rows, all in horseback, to his right stood Brown Ben Plumm atop his gray mare, behind him two other lieutenants on horseback perfectly lined behind himself and Ben.

“Ready?” asked the old sellsword.

To which Daario answered only with a hollow smile.

“OPEN THE GATES!” Ben commanded, and the gates of that abandoned old castle that they had repaired themselves open, if slowly; and as soon as the gates were high, Daario gave a gentle kick to his horse and Ben did the same, and steadily the horses began to walk and so did the ones behind them, then they began to trot and then to canter towards Winterfell ... all five thousand of them.

 

* * *

 

As predicted the first line of cavalry fell into the trenches, there were screams of agony of men and horses alike impaled by the stakes made on a rush, but there had not been enough time to dig said trenches or to make more stakes, and so, the first men and horses that fell to the trenches were the only ones, as the next line easily went past them.

“Make not a single move!” Dany heard Jon yell in the distant, she had to acknowledge that this entire battle could be over sooner and quicker on dragon back, but the words of Sandor, the red priestess that had come looking for her and even some in her own dreams reminded her why she was not ought to bring them, so she waged war like she had done before, this was not her first time commanding an army.

The following line of mounted horsemen got impaled on the spears that Jon had put as his second line of defense, but the Dothraki quickly broke said line of spear men with relative ease; they were light riders after all and most could jump on horse back so a bunch of them did just that, jump the line of spears and shields straight into Jon’s infantry, were the Dothraki could just break several of their formations from the inside; instead though, they broke the line of spear men, and when they disbanded, the corpses filled up the trenches so the next line could cross easily.

“If they are smart, they would have built a moat” she remembered Mortimer Qorgyle mentioning at some point, he might not be a man adept in other things, but he knew war, he knew Westerosi war…

One of the dothraki on the other side, a slender man on a black horse that Dany recognized as Qhono, a man who had become one of her top advisors since she took over the Dothraki, waved his arakh in the air and blew a horn.

It sounded once, then twice; and Daenerys immediately knew what that sound meant.

She lowered the visor of her helm, which was made of black steel and shaped like the head of a dragon with rubies as eyes, and the dragon’s snout as the visor of the helm...and then she raised Blackfyre in the sky, high enough to be seen by all her men, the sun reflected the blade of the sword and it produced a shine as if R'hllor were guiding them.

“CHARGE!” she yelled as soon as she pushed the sword forward facing at the battle ahead, she didn’t need to push the ribs of her black dothraki stallion wich in dothraki custom she had not named, he just obeyed ahead of her command...the rest of her battalion obeyed not too late after, first there were all the cavalry; the mounted knights and the dothraki, who were leading the charge and behind them stood the foot soldiers of which she had more than she ever had before; However they did not charge all at once at the same time, while running towards the defense that Jon had built they split into three; Dany was of course leading the charge in the center but there were also two other groups, the battalion on the right lead by Ser Jorah Mormont who would flank the right rear of Jon’s agrupation, first by breaking said line wich unlike the front wasn’t composed of a moat or soldiers with spears but rather by regular foot soldiers that easily fell to Jorah’s mounted knights and his group of screamers, and then by the left battalion lead by Lord Mortimer Quorgyle and Ser Preston Redwyne that also split into a column to flank Jon’s grouping from the left side , thus breaking Jon’s main formation, a circle of men who in theory had cover from all sides but specially the south; Dany recognized that said agrupation of men was a good one when facing enemies in higher numbers, as it blocks a direct charge with more ease and is more likely to survive flankings; but she wasn’t breaking the lines with footsoldiers, she was breaking the lines with files of mounted knights, in a row in wich there were two on the front and would expand once breaking the first line of men, besides, she just had much, much more men...she called this “Needling”.

She wondered how much easier this would have been, if, in her past life, a likewise strategy had been applied on the Night King’s Army, rather than simply charging at a more numerous army like Jon had planned.

She then clashed herself with her first line of men, who were struggling and failing to maintain the line of defense that Jon had so carefully organized before her charge, her horse had broken through a few soldiers and one of them was holding on as much as he could, he had an axe, a basic uniform made of a single plate and chainmail above some furs, and a kettle helm with no other protection on the ears and neck than a layer of chainmail that went from the kettle helm to the soldier’s shoulders, at least he had some decent leather pauldrons...as Dany broke through, killing a few men in the process by slashing them with Blackfyre when her Coal (the stallion), she got a good look at the man she saw beneath that poorly made helm...Ser Spittle…

Yes, she remembered, Ser Spittle had spit on the ground when she had arrived to Winterfell, she had been visiting the trenches with Jon then, who smiled ... he fucking smiled.

He fucking smiled.

He couldn’t see the expression on her face when her sword passed clean through his neck and his body fell to the ground, but behind the visor, she smiled too…

The smile lasted too little though, a sudden slash to the horse’s throat knocked the animal cold in the ground, which fell, making a tremendous and loud noise; even when hitting the snow, which turned red around Coal’s neck; Dany managed to jump out of the horse in time, landing with both feet on the ground and holding Blackfyre in a perfectly diagonal position from her face, just like Sandor had taught her.

A few men ran towards her however she managed to cut them; the first ran at her from her left rear he was screaming and holding a massive axe, he obviously was attempting to cut her in half, yet Dany managed to turn around to meet his gaze and cut him from his right shoulder to the left of his hips before he could reach her, and the sword passed through almost cleanly, still she had to pull a little bit before the sword was out of his body and she could return to the guard position and to the direction she had been pointing towards when she fell off Coal, which turned out to be great because then in her right rear another man was running towards her with a sword, this time she could not take him off by just slashing him, so she managed to block a few hits by him using Blackfyre’s lower part of the blade before finally dodging another blow by said man and then slashing his left gut until her blade reached the man’s belly button and then pulling out the sword.

Part of her felt proud, a few months ago she could not move this gracefully with a wooden sword, much less a full plate armor and even less so with a visor that she had a great difficulty even breathing with the first few times she had used it; even further back to her previous life and the first time she had grabbed a sword, she could remember how poorly she had her stance, how poorly she grabbed the grip and her own unexperience, she did not move nearly as gracefully then; in a white fur dress with a dragonglass sword fighting wights, as she did now in a heavy armor fighting men...still part of her felt wrong, like she wasn’t nearly as graceful and skill as her mentor, and she remained still a novice in battle...worse, she felt like she was enjoying herself too much; she had smiled when she cut down Ser Spittle, and a few other men that ran towards her after her horse fell she smiled when she killed them too; she had killed before, and she had never enjoyed it, her first had been her own husband, Drogo, and she felt miserable when she smothered him, when she killed Mirri Maz Duur she felt fury rather than sorrow but she had not enjoyed it, neither had she enjoyed it when she killed the slavers, or the Khals who she killed herself, or the people she had executed, she had fell grimm when she took Randyl Tarly’s life in her old life; and yet in this new life she had enjoyed killing Cersei, and she was enjoying herself while cutting down Jon’s men…

Another man ran towards her, tall and screaming, he knocked to the ground when she was procesing her emotions, he too was wearing an armor and helm though his helm had a nasal and did not cover his entire face like hers did; with his massive hands he tried to hold her and slash her throat with the massive sword he was holding in the other hand, he was much stronger than she was and yet Daenerys was able to resist a little while, until she could shove her own sword through the naked neck of the man who gargled in his blood atop her, staining her helm before finally, a bit of the blood fell through the wholes in her visor and into her left eye; still Dany pushed the man out and stood up again, returning to the original guard she was in, just now with less visibility.

She then turned around to see, it hadn’t been one of Jon’s infantry men who had slashed her horse’s throat, or one of his knights.

“DIE!!” screamed the girl as she ran towards her, Dany only thought of increasing the security next time she captured her, and she would.

 

* * *

 

“We are almost there!” screamed Davos in desperation while he kept running, doing his hardest not to look back, he counted on the ensuing chaos of the battle to manage to escape the Queen’s forces and Jon’s as well, though he had no plan of what to do once they were out of the north.

“Wait, wait…” begged Sansa, she could not run nearly as fast as Davos, her dress wouldn’t allow her to.

Several hooves trampling in the ground could be heard in the distance, as could the feral screams of men, the desperate braying of horses and the constant clash of steel, but it remained distant, distant enough at least.

“This is my fault…!” said Sansa while she tried to keep with Davos’s pace, she was running out of breath, she had run only once before, from Ramsay’s dogs and when she had done that she had no shackles on her legs, no limp and no elaborate dress on her, she had only Theon... then again, then Ramsay’s men were actively looking for her, now they were all too distracted killing each other.

“Aye! It is!” yelled Davos, who turned to her to grab her hand, and he looked at her in the eye, he had deeply frowned eyebrows, and a snarl that marked his nose, his mouth made the shape of a cavern, Sansa remained for the time unsure if he was angry for her, at her or with her.

“And unless you keep running, you will not have time to realize how much yer ‘clever act’ will cost us and the north...the Queen WILL kill you if you don’t continue to run”, despite his tone she was grateful that he was saving her life, with a great risk to his own...and when he turned his sight to the road again, pulling Sansa by the arm, Davos kept to tight a gasp on her arm, but he did managed to pull them and she was grateful to the gods that no one had discovered her yet, that they were all too busy with the battle to notice her yet; the sound of it was turning more and more distant the more she ran, it was like when she ran from Ramsay and his dogs…

“KEEP RUNNING!” said Davos, he too was running out of breath, he wasn’t as young as he had been once.

“Keep running and do not stop, they are not chasing us now, but they could at any minute!” and done as it had been said soon they began hearing hooves and screams behind them; Sansa turned back to see two men on horseback, Dothraki, far away, but getting closer, atop horses that were galloping, incredibly fast...the horses had even foam in their mouths and the screamers were... screaming.

She cursed the silver haired bitch on her mind, it wasn’t Sansa’s fault, it was hers...she wouldn’t leave their kingdom alone, the North...the beautiful North... Her father had taken Brandon’s head and her grandsire as well, he was a madman a murderer and poisoned in the blood; And so was his daughter who surrounded herself with Dornishmen and Red Priests and Savages and all class of abominations and sorcerers from the east!

And the clash of hooves was getting stronger as the two riders behind her kept getting closer.

 

* * *

 

**_To Queen Daenerys_ **

 

_As you have commanded, I have sent the message to the “empty” castles of the watch; The Night fort, the Queensgate, Greyguard, Greenguard, Sablehall and Icemark are on their way to render aid; Your fear of the Night's Watch interference was an unnecessary one, Lord Commander Tollet is sympathetic to the Northern cause and to the King in the North, but he knows well of his sworn duty to stay out of the realms of men._

_As you predicted, he ordered his defense south, not north, and he has, as you suspected, built a moat, it’s rather impressive but the point remains that his heavy defense lays south._

_I have no doubt that you shall deal with him quickly, and I hope that this letter reaches you well, I sent a courier that ran a great risk by delivering this to you, Your Grace, as have I._

_Thus, by this mean, I mean to remind you that you do have some... friends... in the north, it is my intention to prove my good faith and to further the alliance we have proposed, it is my belief that you shall be benefitial to the north, we shall speak and meet in person once this madness is over._

_In the meantime, I hope only that this letter finds you well, and I ask only that you treat my courier well... we have much to talk about, Your Grace._

 

_Regards._

 

_Your Northern friend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the name "Ser Spittle" from ThatBishLizzie's brilliant fic [**Awake**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666562/chapters/51669646) because I found it a good way to call the guy who spits at Dany in that deleted scene that made my blood boil more than anything; Awake is one of the best post S8 fics I've read so far and it is absolutely brilliant, it made me very sympathetic towards Cersei _Freaking_ Lannister; If you haven't already please read it, then also read **[Forewarned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875461/chapters/44802418)** and **[The Queen Who Passed Beyond The Shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387786/chapters/46133716)** , tell them I said "Hi"
> 
>  
> 
> I want to thank all of you for your patience, I know you were expecting the battle last chapter and I delayed it even further.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Well, the battle has started, and I beg your forgiveness, writing Battles is hard.
> 
> In an act of shameless self promotion I'd like to recommend the following works I'm writing.
> 
>  **[The Return of Dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12433968/chapters/28298829)** is a fic I started writing long before S8, and it is more book based than this one, it is also a bit more rustic; I haven't updated in a while, but I mean to continue it, AViTF has taken a good portion of my time but I do mean to finish everything else.
> 
> Then there are my two babies.
> 
>  **[Catra the Barbarian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625723/chapters/44166829)** a SPoP fic I'm writing on the side because I love She Ra and I love Catra
> 
> and finally
> 
>  **[The Dance of The Accursed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22354303/chapters/53403598) **if you liked Pirates of the Caribbean, I recently rewatched the first three movies and I was dying to read a very specific trope I had in my mind but I couldn't found a single fic that even approached the topic save from  **[Sea-Change](https://archiveofourown.org/works/169458)**
> 
> Which is a beautiful fanfic, but approached it too briefly; **The Dance of The Accursed** is something that I'm writing that wasn't born as a salt fic but out of an AU that got stuck in my head while watching the movies and I thought it could be beautiful, and I feel like it's my current jewel...so I know how it looks to see me begging for kudos but please, give these a shot, and if it's not of your liking I can always understand.
> 
>  
> 
> Lastly I wanted to apologize for uploading this late, my classes are suspended and I am in quarantine, so I should have uploaded earlier, I certainly started writing earlier...however someone close to me passed away and I had to delay the upload of this chapter, for starters I couldn't finish it when it was scheduled, so I apologize to you for being late again.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, Valar Morghulis and I give to you my unlimited love.
> 
>  
> 
> - _TargaryenPug A.K.A Her Majesty The Bomb_


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